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The Beautiful and...
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Transparent Things
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The Instant of My...
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The Beautiful and Damned by F. Scott Fitzgerald
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Tender Is the Night by F. Scott Fitzgerald
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The Instant of My Death /Demeure by Jacques Derrida
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Why Translation Matters by Edith Grossman
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Lectures on Russian Literature by Vladimir Nabokov
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Transparent Things by Vladimir Nabokov
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Torpor by Chris Kraus
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Hatred of Capitalism by Chris Kraus
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I Love Dick by Chris Kraus
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Wandering by Hermann Hesse
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More of Julia Lans's books…
W.G. Sebald
“No matter whether one is flying over Newfoundland or the sea of lights that stretches from Boston to Philadelphia after nightfall, over the Arabian deserts which gleam like mother-of-pearl, over the Ruhr or the city of Frankfurt, it is as though there were no people, only the things they have made and in which they are hiding.”
W.G. Sebald, The Rings of Saturn

W.G. Sebald
“To him it seemed a miracle that we should last so much as a single day. There is no antidote, he writes, against the opium of time. The winter sun shows how soon the light fades from the ash, how soon night enfolds us. Hour upon hour is added to the sum. Time itself grows old. Pyramids, arches and obelisks are melting pillars of snow. Not even those who have found a place amidst the heavenly constellations have perpetuated their names: Nimrod is lost in Orion, and Osiris in the Dog Star. Indeed, old families last not three oaks. To set one’s name to a work gives no one a title to be remembered, for who knows how many of the best of men have gone without a trace? The iniquity of oblivion blindly scatters her poppyseed and when wretchedness falls upon us one summer’s day like snow, all we wish for is to be forgotten.”
W.G. Sebald

Edward Stachura
“Jako nie odpuszczam moim winowajcom”
Edward Stachura

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