Gallery

Thumb_baudelaire-1
Charles Baudelaire

I love to watch the fine mist of the night come on, The windows and the stars illumined, one by one, The rivers of dark smoke pour upward lazily, And the moon rise and turn them silver. I shall see The springs, the su... Read more

Thumb_magritte
Ceci n'est pas un... livre

Everything we see hides another thing, we always want to see what is hidden by what we see. There is an interest in that which is hidden and which the visible does not show us. This interest can take the form of a qui... Read more

Thumb_saba
Umberto Saba

I traversed the entire town. Then I climbed a steep slope, crowded at first, deserted further up, closed by a low wall: a nook where I sit alone; and it seems to me that where it ends the town ends too. Trieste has a ... Read more

Thumb_harrypotteren
The boy who lived

Professor McGonagall's voice trembled as she went on. "That's not all. They're saying he tried to kill the Potter's son, Harry. But – he couldn't. He couldn't kill that little boy. No one knows why, or how, but they'r... Read more