Sunday, The Day For The

Literature That Keeps Employing New Linguistic And Formal Modes Of Expression To Draft A Panorama Of Society As A Whole While At The Same Time Exposing It, Tearing The Masks From Its Face - For Me That Would Be Deserving Of An Award.

Sunday, The Day For The Language Of Leisure.

It Is Not Enough ... Simply To Surrender Oneself Brainlessly To Love, When It Knocks At The Door, One Must Also Calculate Because Of Later Life, Which Does Sometimes Follow.

Anna Despises Two Classes Of People: First, Those Who Own Their Own Homes And Have Cars And Families, And Second, Everybody Else. Constantly She Is On The Verge Of Exploding. With Rage. A Pool Of Pure Red. The Pool Is Filled With Speechlessness That Talks Away At Her Nonstop.

As Is Said About Most Writers: On The One Hand All I Ever Did From When I Was A Child Was Read, And I Was A Loner, Which Was Furthered By My Parents And My Upbringing.