Trollfjellet av Thomas Mann
Sommeren før mørket av Doris Lessing
For ordens skyld, jeg flytter Q- svaret hit slik at det blir orden i rekkene.
Quo Vadis av H. Sienkiewicz
Quo Vadis av Henryk Sienkiewicz
På gjengrodde stier av Knut Hamsun
Hvem skal jeg svare deg eller Lillevi? :_)
Nåde av Linn Ullmann
Klangprøven av Siegfried Lenz
Isslottet av Tarjei Vesaas
Gode gjerninger av Mari Osmundsen
Dilettanten av Terje Holtet larsen
Jeg prøver å spore opp øyeblikket da Buzz Aldrin endelig løfter seg opp etter håret, våger å tenke tanken helt ut: Det kreves enorm viljestyrke, flaks og dyktighet for å bli først. Men det krever et gigantisk hjerte å være nummer to.
Thomas Mann's novelle "Das Gesetz" eller "Loven" - som den heter på norsk - ble utgitt i "Solums smale serie" med ISBN 82-560-0883-0 på 1990-tallet.
It is awfully easy to be hard-boiled about everything in the daytime, but at night it is another thing.
Sjokolade kan ikke prises høyt nok. Trikset er å spise den før den smelter og setter seg på fingrene. Og det er jo ikke vanskelig når sjokoladen er god!
"Robert Cohn was once middleweight boxing champion of Princeton. Do not think that I am very much impressed by that as a boxing title, but it meant a lot to Cohn. He cared nothing for boxing, in fact he disliked it, but he learned it painfully and thoroughly to counteract the feeling of inferiority and shyness he had felt on being treated as a Jew at Princeton. There was a certain inner comfort in knowing he could knock down anybody who was snooty to him, although, being very shy and a thoroughly nice boy, he never fought except in the gym."
"The Sun Also Rises" by Ernest Hemingway.
Weary with hunting and the hot sun
Narcissus found this pool.
Gratefully he stretched out full length,
To cup his hands in the clear cold
And to drink. But as he drank
A strange new thirst, a craving, unfamiliar,
Entered his body with the water,
And entered his eyes
With the reflection in the limpid mirror.
He could not believe the beauty
Of those eyes that gazed into his own.
As the taste of water flooded him.
So did love. So he lay, mistaking
That picture of himself on the meniscus
For the stranger who could make him happy.
Destiny, not guilt, was enough
For Actaeon. It is no crime
To lose your way in a dark wood.
Those lips that Love's own hand did make
Breathed forth the sound that said 'I hate'
To me that languish'd for her sake;
But when she saw my woeful state,
Straight in her heart did mercy come,
Chiding that tongue that ever sweet
Was used in giving gentle doom,
And taught it thus anew to greet:
'I hate' she alter'd with an end,
That follow'd it as gentle day
Doth follow night, who like a fiend
From heaven to hell is flown away;
'I hate' from hate away she threw,
And saved my life, saying 'not you.'
sonette 145.
Så godt det er å være ung med en ubetinget tro på kjærligheten!