Az Uralom Koronája egy ?si, egyedülálló varázser?vel rendelkez? elveszett ereklye. A civilizációtól távol, az elhagyatott Felejtés-sivataggal k?rülvett, misztikus Piramisf?ld?n nyugszik titkos rejtekhelyén. A legendák szerint megszerz?je Erabon világának urává válhat. A tolvajfiú Antor, tanítványa Morghan, a varázslón? Kyranda, a szerencsevadász Monteris és az íjászn? Elvana kapják azt az életveszélyes kényszerfeladatot, hogy megszerezzék ezt a fenséges varázstárgyat a rettegett Birodalom császárának. A k?z?s cél a viszontagságokkal teli utazás során elszánt és lelkes csapattá kovácsolja ?ket ?ssze. Egy ármányos és velejéig romlott rosszakaró, valamint a fondorlatos alvilág jelenléte miatt azonban a folytonos kihívások mellett ellenségekb?l sincs hiány. A konfliktusok során szerepet kap a hagyományos küzdelem, a kül?nféle harcm?vészetek, a mágia szinte minden iskolája és formája, továbbá a pusztán beavatottak által használt titokzatos kozmikus er?. A megpróbáltatások folyamán el?térbe kerülnek birodalmak, népek, kultúrák, vallások, világi és titkos rendek, szokások és kivételes világcsodák; mindek?zben változatos helyszíneken igaz barátságok és szenvedélyes szerelmek születnek. Az igazi meglepetéseket mégis az ismert világ peremvidékén túli, lakatlannak vélt vidék tartogatja. Vajon képes lesz-e a csapat megküzdeni minden nehézséggel? A k?nyvben ?tv?z?dik a páratlan részletességgel kidolgozott háttérvilág a rendkívül precíz ?sszefonódású, egymásra utaló eseményekkel, és mindezt életh?en színes leírások, filmszer? jelenetek, valamint hangulatos párbeszédek tarkítják. Nem mindennapi terjedelmét, színvonalas tartalmát és kimagasló mélységét tekintve e m? egyike a valaha megírt legnagyobb eredeti alkotásoknak. www.aholdsarlofenye.hu

Cirilla, a cintrai trón?r?k?s a Fecske-toronyban elt?nik saját világáról, és olyan útra indul, ahová sem védelmez?je, a fehér hajú vaják, sem mentora, a fekete hajú varázslón? nem k?vetheti. Olyan útra, amelynek a végén a végzet várja – az a végzet, amelyr?l már oly sok látomás kísértette. Minden a helyére kerül, a kígyó a saját farkába harap, valami véget ér, és valami elkezd?dik… A Vaják-saga befejez? k?tetében Sapkowski még magához képest is elképeszt? bravúrral ábrázol nagyszabású háborút és ugyanakkor az egyes ember drámai sorsát. Képzeletének és érzékletes leírásainak hatására megelevenednek el?ttünk az országok, városok és falvak, a t?le megszokott néz?pontváltások pedig gondoskodnak róla, hogy a sorssz?tte t?rténet végét a lehet? legalaposabb, legmélyebb módon kapjuk meg. A sagát átsz?v? fekete humor pedig tükr?t tart nemcsak a társadalom, de az egyes ember kicsinyessége és nagysága elé. ??

". . . aphorism are seldom couched in such terms, that they should be taken as they sound precisely, or according to the widest extent of signification; but do commonly need exposition, and admit exception: otherwise frequently they would not only clash with reason and experience, but interfere, thwart, and supplant one another." ? ? ? ? Issac Barrow "The very essence of an aphorism is that slight exaggeration which makes it more biting whilst less rigidly accurate." ? ? ? ?—Leslie Stephen There are of course, girls and girls; yet at heart they are pretty much alike. In age, naturally, they differ wildly. But this is a thorny subject. Suffice it to say that all men love all girls-the maid of sweet sixteen equally with the maid of untold age. There is something exasperatingly something-or-otherish about girls. And they know it—which makes them more something-or-otherish still:—there is no other word for it. A girl is a complicated thing. It is made up of clothes, smiles, a pompadour, things of which space and prudence forbid the enumeration here. These things by themselves do not constitute a girl which is obvious; nor is any one girl without these things which is not too obvious. Where the things end and the girl begins many men have tried to find out. Many girls would like to be men—except on occasions. At least so they say, but perhaps this is just a part of their something-or-otherishness. Why they should want to be men, men cannot conceive. Men pale before them, grow hot and cold before them, run before them (and after them), swear by them (and at them), and a bit of a chit of a thing in short skirts and lisle-thread stockings will twist able-bodied males round her little finger.It is an open secret that girls are fonder of men than they are of one another—which is very lucky for the men. Girls differ; and the same girl is different at different times. When she is by herself, she is one thing. When she is with other girls she is another thing. When she is with a lot of men, she is a third sort of thing. When she is with a man. . . But this baffled even Agur the son of Jakeh.As a rule, a man prefers a girl by herself. This is natural. And yet is said that you cannot have too much of a good thing. If this were true, a bevy of girls would be the height of happiness. Yet some men would sooner face the bulls of Bashan.Some foolish men—probably poets—have sought for and asserted the existence of the ideal girl. This is sheer nonsense: there is no such thing. And if there were, she could not compare with the real girl, the girl of flesh and blood—which (as some one ought to have said) are excellent things in woman. Other men, equally foolish, have regarded girls as playthings. I wish these men had tried to play with them. They would have found that they were playing with fire and brimstone. Yet the veriest spit-fire can be wondrous sweet.Sweet? Yes. On the whole a girl is the sweetest thing known or knowable. On the 6 whole of this terrestrial sphere Nature has produced nothing more adorable than the high-spirited high-bred girl.—Of this she is quite aware—to our cost (I speak as a man). The consequence is, her price has gone up, and man has to pay high and pay all sorts of things—ices, sweets, champagne, drives, church-goings, and sometimes spot-cash.

This story belongs to the year 1837, and was regarded by the generations of that and a succeeding time as the most miraculous of all the recorded deliverances from death at sea. It may be told thus: Mr. Montagu Vanderholt sat at breakfast with his daughter Violet one morning in September. Vanderholt's house was one of a fine terrace close to Hyde Park. He was a rich man, a retired Cape merchant, and his life had been as chequered as Trelawney's, with nothing of romance and nothing of imagination in it. He was the son of honest parents, of Dutch extraction, and had run away to sea when about twelve years old. Nothing under the serious heavens was harsher, more charged with misery, suffering, dirt, and wretchedness, than seafaring in the days when young Vanderholt, with an idiot's cunning, fled to it from his father's comfortable little home. He got a ship, was three years absent, and on his return found both his father and mother dead. He went again to sea, and, fortunately for him, was shipwrecked in the neighbourhood of Simon's Bay. The survivors made their way to Cape Town, and presently young Vanderholt got a job, and afterwards a position. He then became a master, until, after some eight or ten years of heroic perseverance, attended by much good luck, behold Mr. Vanderholt full-blown into a colonial merchant prince. How much he was worth when he made up his mind to settle in England, after the death of his wife, and when he had disposed of his affairs so as to leave himself as free a man as ever he had been when he was a common Jack Swab, really signifies nothing. It is certain he had plenty, and plenty is enough, even for a merchant prince of Dutch extraction. Besides Violet, he had two sons, who will not make an appearance on this little brief stage. They are dismissed, therefore, with this brief reference—that both were in the army, and both, at the time of this tale, in India. Violet was Vanderholt's only daughter, and he loved her exceedingly. She was not beautiful, but she was fair to see, with a pretty figure, and an arch, gay smile. You saw the Dutch blood in her eyes, as you saw it in her father's, whose orbs of vision, indeed, were ridiculously small—scarcely visible in their bed of socket and lash. An English mother had come to Violet's help in this matter. Taking her from top to toe, with her surprising quantity of brown hair, soft complexion, good mouth, teeth, and figure, Violet Vanderholt was undoubtedly a fine girl. THE LAST ENTRY "OPINIONS OF THE PRESS ON THE LAST ENTRY": '"The Last Entry" is a rattling good salt-water yarn, told in the author's usual breezy, exhilarating style.'-”Daily Mail. 'In this new novel Mr. Russell has cleverly thrown its events into the year 1837, and there are one or two ingenious passages which add to the Diamond Jubilee interest which that date suggests.... "The Last Entry" is as certain of general popularity as any of Mr. Russell's former tales of the marvels of the sea.'-”Glasgow Herald. 'We do not think it possible for anyone to dip into this novel without desiring to finish it, and it adds another to the long list of successes of our best sea author.'-”Librarian. 'In addition to mutiny and murder, "The Last Entry" contains many of those good things which have made Mr. Russell's pages a joy to so many lovers of the sea during the last twenty years.... "The Last Entry" is a welcome addition to Mr. Clark Russell's library.'-”Speaker. 'The writer is as realistic and picturesque as usual in his vivid descriptions of the stagnant life on board the homeward-bound Indiaman.'-”Times. 'It is full of pleasant vigour.... As is always the case in Mr. Clark Russell's books, the elements are treated with the pen of an artist.'-”Standard. 'We expected plenty of go, of fresh and vigorous description of sea-faring life, coupled with a story which would not be wanting in interest. All this we have here.'”-Tablet.

Clipele vie?ii mele sunt pentru mine la fel de importante ca primele clipe ale Universului.Clipesc, aud, respir, m? mi?c… deci exist!Pentru cei ce nu mai au r?bdare. Pentru cei care caut? mereu sf?r?itul ?nc? de la ?nceput. Pentru cei ce nu mai au timp…Acum se termin? ?nceputul ?i, cum suntem pe punctul de a disp?rea definitiv, nu v?d de ce am mai c?uta care este motivul ?i dac? s?ar mai fi putut face ceva. (Ciprian Vestemean)

De ce, oare, ne ?ntreb?m, ?i ?nlesnise Gra?ian Porumb omului pe care-l dispre?uia aceast? fapt?, aceast? grav? injusti?ie? Nu ?tim, d?m din umeri, privim ?n st?nga, privim ?n dreapta, dar de nic?ieri nu ne vine un ajutor c?t de c?t, un r?spuns. ?i nu ne r?m?ne atunci, insisten?i cum suntem, dec?t s? ghicim: trebuia oare, ?n imagina?ia ?nfierb?ntat? de nou? ?i ciudat? aventur? a t?n?rului – trebuia oare ca prietenul s?u Bizoniu, s? ?coboare" ?i ?n ?lumea cealalt?" care, ha, ha, se afla tot ?n lumea noastra, ?n lumea ?celor nev?zu?i?" A, nu, ei nu sunt nev?zu?i dec?t pentru simplul motiv ca ?i ?nl?turam din calea, din drumurile noastre ?i ?i ascundem, ?i ??nchidem" ?n subteranele lor care se cheam? sau temni?e, sau case de nebuni! Oricum, ?n ?subteranele nebunilor" Gra?ian consider? c? "micul pop?" ??i plimbase deja pa?ii ?i f?ptura, urma doar sa ?accead?" ?i la "ceilal?i", cei ne?n?ele?i ?i ?pedepsi?i" care, vii ?i fiin?e fiind, ca ?i noi, aveau la r?ndul lor dreptul de a-L ?nt?lni. A?a cum ?i ?el", omul viu ?i ?n?eleg?tor – de?i, cum am v?zut, el nu ?abuz?" de ?n?elegerea sa, nu se gr?bea defel ?s? ?n?eleag?", ci mai ales s? aud?, s? vad?, s? stea al?turi, s? fie, adic?, s?-?i d?ruiasca din merindea timpului s?u ?i nou?, s? fie ?cu noi" – deci, a?a cum ?i ?el" avea ?dreptul" de a fi cu ?ei". Cine ?tie? (Nicolae Breban)Puterea nev?zut? este cel de-al treilea volum din tetralogia Ziua ?i noaptea, care are ca supratem? rela?ia maestru-ucenic.

Marina ?vetaieva se distinge printr-o scriitur? accentuat personal?, nu numai ?n poezie, dar ?i ?n proz?. Este vorba de stilistica ei nervoas?, abrupta, sincopata, chiar ?i ortografic inconfundabil?, cu multiple linii de pauz? ori intercal?ri neuzuale de paranteze, exclama?ii ?i altele. Care s? fie, deci, cuv?ntul nimerit pentru a surprinde particularitatea acestei crea?ii? I-am spus: stare patetic?. ?i pot spune: stare febril?. I-am spus: radicalitate. ?i pot spune: frenezie. ?i via?a, ?i opera ?vetaievei febriciteaz?. Ele repudiaz?, f?r? ?ncetare, situa?iile medii, mediocre, cotidiene, cumin?i. ...Dac? excesul poate periclita via??, excesivul poate salva arta. Excesivul e aici o supralicitare a d?ruirii, o hipertrofie a ata?amentului. ?vetaieva smulge arta din str?mtor?rile ei, ale ?vetaievei ?i ale artei. E ca o hiperbola a omului, ca o dovada a demnit??ii rec??tigate: prin arta subumanul trece ?n sublim. Crez?nd ?n art?, ?vetaieva crede ?n umanitate, ?n ?ansa nemuririi ei palpabile. Dar transgresarea mor?ii ea o stoarce din vecin?tatea mor?ii; dintr-o via?? ne?ncetat periclitat? de absolutismele ei. Via?a nu e tr?it? pe m?sura artei, s-o oblig?m la nem?surare! – ar putea fi deviza ei, ultimul ei mesaj.

„Mai devreme decât niciodat?“, cum scriam într-un vers de tinere?e, ajunge la tipar materia înjum?t??it?, v?muit? a jurnalului meu de scriitor din perioada 1979-1989; cel din anii anteriori s-a pierdut, nu mai are rost s? explic în ce fel. Iar materia jurnalelor mele din perioada de dup? 1989, structurat? în dou? volume: Lamenta?iile uitucului ?i Gândirea înceat?, î?i a?teapt? editorul. ?i, implicit, cititorii…

Sonetul contondentCelor doi / poe?i de mare soi...(Istrate ?i Murgeanu)Visam c? Marea-?i p?r?sea ghioculCu-al s?u tumult de valuri euxine?i, h?t-departe-n zonele alpine,Ca-n Cretaceu, ??i reg?sise locul...Priveam de-acuma fascinat la joculDe valuri ?n?esate de jivineDin vremuri disp?rute, care-n fine,??i ?ncercau, o dat?-n plus, norocul.Sim?eam o dulce binecuv?ntareC?-n groapa euxinic? ad?nc?O Mare Neagr? nu exist? ?nc?,Nici Casa Scriitorilor la mare;Nici doi poe?i cu barb?, bur?i ?i plete,S?-n?ire contondentele sonete.

SINCE the publication of my larger book, "The Horse Fair," many letters have been received from teachers and their scholars telling of the pleasure derived from the reading of it, and incidentally suggesting that much of its contents is directly in line with the courses of literary instruction pursued in our elementary schools. This suggestion has led me to col-lect certain of the stories into a smaller volume especially adapted for use as a school reading-book.? The eighteen stories in this volume have been chosen with a thought to their educative value as well as for the intrinsic charm of the original narratives, which in various forms have delighted many generations of readers. All have a literary interest connecting them with subjects with which every educated person is supposed to be familiar. In the first four, you will be introduced to the sun myths and season myths of the Greeks and of our Norse ancestors. Following these, the tale of song-inspiring Pegasus is presented in contrast with that of Griffen, the base imitation invented by the romancing poets of the Middle Ages. ? Then in "The Ship of the Plains," you may read of the mythical founding of Athens; and in the sketch that follows, you may enjoy a brief glimpse of Arabic imagery in the story of one of the most interesting episodes in the life of the prophet Mohammed. The story of the twin brethren will acquaint you with the thought of some of the old Latin writers, while the tale of Rakush will give you a taste of Persian literature as it is found in the great epic written by Firdusi. The romances of Charlemagne and his peers are represented by the story of Broiefort and his indomitable master; and the world-famous Don Quixote is introduced by his sorry but scarcely less famous steed, Rozinante.

Ninge ?n martieNinge ?ntr-un hornDin care iese fumNinge tot mai densCople?itor?i ?ntoarce fumul din drum?l preseaz? ?n horn ca-ntr-un teasc?l ?ndeas? la loc ?n c?rbuniAstup? flac?raRea?az? focul ?nMiezul ?nsu?i al P?m?ntului.

Scrum este cel de-al doilea roman al lui Augustin Nacu ?i reprezint? istoria unei evad?ri e?uate, un joc periculos, dar ?i frumos, disperat de frumos al unui grup de prieteni, mai ?nt?i, elevi, apoi, studen?i, din Uniunea Sovietic?, afla?i ?ntr-o goan? perpetu? dup? visul lor. Cu mici excep?ii, ac?iunea se desf??oar? la Chi?in?u, capitala Republicii Sovietice Socialiste Moldovene?ti, la ?nceputul anilor optzeci ai secolului XX, constituind sf?r?itul a?a-zisei epoci de stagnare a lui Brejnev ?i acel intermezzo dinaintea perestroik?i lui Gorbaciov, av?nd mai multe ie?iri ?ntr-un viitor nu doar imaginar pentru tot at?tea ?ntoarceri ?ntr-un trecut teribil de real, chiar ?i ?n unul mai ?ndep?rtat, cel de la mijlocul secolului men?ionat, o perioad? dramatic? pentru Basarabia ?i oamenii ei, bunici ?i p?rin?i, a c?ror remanent? disperare s-a transmis printr-o ?memorie a genelor“ copiilor ?i nepo?ilor, aliment?ndu-le mereu acestora din urm? dorin?a nest?vilit? de libertate, din care s-a iscat acel vis ?i, implicit, acel joc al lor...

Referindu-se la Pesc?ru?ul ?ntr-o scrisoare din octombrie 1895, Cehov nota, ?ntre altele: ?Scriu o pies? pe care probabil nu o voi termina p?n? la sf?r?itul lui noiembrie. O scriu nu f?r? pl?cere, de?i m? tem de conven?iile scenei. E o comedie, exist? trei roluri pentru femei, ?ase pentru b?rba?i, patru acte, peisaje (priveli?tea unui lac), o mul?ime de conversa?ii despre literatur?, pu?in? ac?iune, mult? iubire“. Premiera s-a dovedit dezastruoas?, editorul s?u aduc?ndu-i acuze ca, pild?, la?itatea evident?, caracterul din cale afar? de feminin. Con?tient de geniul s?u, Cehov riposteaz?: ?De ce aceast? calomnie? Dup? reprezenta?ie am luat cina la Romanovi. Pe cuv?ntul meu de onoare. Apoi m-am dus la culcare, am dormit s?n?tos ?i a doua zi am mers acas? f?r? a suspina vreo nemul?umire. Dac? a? fi fost un la?, a? fi alergat de la un editor la altul ?i de la un actor la altul, i-a? fi implorat s? fie ?ng?duitori ?i a? fi petrecut dou? trei s?pt?m?ni ?n Petersburg, agit?ndu-m? cu Pesc?ru?ul meu, cu emo?ie, cu o transpira?ie rece ?n lamenta?ii. Am ac?ionat at?t de rece ?i de responsabil precum un om care a f?cut o ofert? ?i apoi a fost ?nt?mpinat cu un refuz ?i nu mai are nimic altceva de f?cut dec?t s? plece. ?ntr-adev?r, vanitatea mea a fost n?ucit?, dar ?ti?i, nu a fost o lovitur? din senin. A?teptam un e?ec ?i m? preg?tisem pentru el precum te-am prevenit cu o absolut? sinceritate“.

Constat c literatura mare n-au scris-o, dup 1989, cei care ctigaser puterea, n cultur, sub eticheta biruitoare de postmodernism, ci scriitorii singuratici, indiferent de generaie, indiferent dac unora li s-au pus stigmatul de expirai. Nicolae Breban, o spun de la bun nceput, a dat una dintre marile cri ale literaturii romne moderne i transmoderne, aproape o carte-testament. (...) Singura cale este una dintre cele mai lucide cri care s-au scris vreodat, capodopera-sintez a operei lui Nicolae Breban, susinut la o tensiune narativ excepional. (...) Singura cale este unul dintre marile romane transmoderne, n varianta cinic/kynic.“ – Theodor CodreanuCred c un mare scriitor cum este Nicolae Breban ar merita mult mai mult atenie de ct a avut parte n ultimii douzeci de ani, cnd s-a ncpnat s fac ceea ce a fcut dintotdeauna, indiferent de epoca pe care a traversat-o, indiferent de situaia social pe care a avut-o: s scrie. Ca orice mare creator, Breban a avut mereu puterea de a institui prin scrisul su, n pofida evidenelor, normalitatea.“ – Bogdan Creu)Nicolae Breban, nscut n 1934, continu, de la debutul su literar din 1957 i de la publicarea primului su romn, Francisca, n 1965, s fie o prezen de vrf n literatura romn contemporan. (...) Autorul attor volume a probat, de asemenea, un singular curaj civic, atunci cnd, la nici doi ani de la alegerea sa, exclusiv pentru merite culturale, ca membru supleant al Comitetului Central al Partidului Comunist Romn (august 1969), a dezavuat, la Paris, n mod public, regimul Ceauescu, pentru tezele culturale dogmatice din iulie 1971. Cu acel prilej, i-a dat i demisia din funcia de redactor-ef al principalei reviste literare autohtone, Romnia literar. El a refuzat, totui, exilul i s-a ntors n Romnia, suportnd cu demnitate urmrile gesturilor sale de nesupunere n numele unei contiine scriitoriceti libere...“ – Ion IanoiN. Breban este mai ales unul dintre marii romancieri ai literaturii romne dintotdeauna, cel mai important dintre romancierii notri actuali, sincron, prin formele i substana ficiunii, celei mai semnificative literaturi contemporane universale.“ – Marian Victor Buciu

Prix Médicis ?tranger, Fran?a, 2010Premi Llibreter, Spania, 2011California Book Award, 2008Grace Paley Price, 2007Dac? ideea de ?eliberare prin scris“ are ?n ea o s?m?n?? de adev?r, povestirile cvasiautobiografice din acest volum reprezint? cea mai bun? exemplificare. Obsedat de imaginea unui tat? ciudat, greu de ?n?eles, care pare s? nu-?i fi g?sit nic?ieri locul potrivit, David Vann ?ncearc? s? ?i traseze traiectoria de via??, pentru a-l ?n?elege mai bine ?i pentru a reu?i s? se ?mpace cu el. ??i rememoreaz? mai ?nt?i copil?ria, momentele dureroase sau senine petrecute al?turi de tat?l s?u ori cu g?ndul la el. ??i imagineaz? apoi o c?l?torie cu el ?n Alaska, unde se retrag am?ndoi ?ntr-o regiune nelocuit?, ?n mijlocul naturii s?lbatice, ?ncerc?nd parc? s? transforme ?n realitate atrac?ia dintotdeauna a tat?lui fa?? de ?spiritul de frontier?“, nostalgia unei austerit??i care ar fi putut s? compenseze via?a tr?it? p?n? atunci ?n dezordine, egoism ?i ?n?el?ciune. Cu o intransigen??, dar ?i o ingenuitate remarcabile, b?iatul merge p?n? la cap?t al?turi de tat?l s?u ?i rezolv? ?n mod radical nu at?t enigma acestuia, c?t raporturile sale filiale cu el ?i conflictul moral devastator din via?a tat?lui.Volum tradus ?n 19 limbi

S? fii un tat? minunat pare o sarcin? de-a dreptul imposibil? uneori. Se a?teapt? de la tat?l modern s? poat? face orice – s? poarte ?ntotdeauna de grij? familiei, s?-i motiveze pe copii, s? fie un bun ?ndrum?tor, consilier, educator, gestionar, asistent medical, nutri?ionist, ofi?er de securitate... iar lista r?m?ne deschis?.Autorul le d? o speran?? tuturor ta?ilor care, p?n? acum, s-au descurcat ?i ei cum au putut, oferindu-le un ghid complet pentru a se implica direct ?n via?a copiilor lor, din momentul concep?iei ?i p?n? c?nd ace?tia ajung la v?rsta adult?. O lucrare necesar? at?t proaspe?ilor t?tici ?i celor cu state vechi, c?t ?i oric?rui b?rbat care sper? s? devin? ?ntr o bun? zi tat?.

Aceste povestiri au fost scrise ?n perioada 2010?2014 ?i publicate, ?n parte, ?n periodice. Le?am numit parabole, av?nd o anumit? inten?ionalitate, ?i am aplicat ?n realizarea lor aceea?i structur? (cvadripartit?) ?i acela?i registru can?titativ (aproximativ o mie de cuvinte).Pe cele din C?l?uzitorul de suflete (cea dint?i sec?iune) le consider europene, ac?iunea lor petrec?ndu?se ?n loca?ii diferite de pe b?tr?nul continent ?i majoritatea ideilor pe care se bazeaz? n?sc?ndu?se ?n timpul unor peregrin?ri (iubirile, c?r?ile, muzica ?i c?l?toriile sunt, dup? umila?mi p?rere, cele mai frumoase lucruri care ni se pot ?nt?mpla ?ntr?o via??). Cu excep?ia primei ?i a ultimei lucr?ri care schi?eaz? un posibil cadru, ordinea povestirilor este alfabetic?. De?i g?ndite ca fantastice, ele au ?i o dimensiune experien?ial?, ?n acela?i timp put?nd fi citite ?i ca poeme ?n proz?: ale ora??elor prin care am trecut, ale oamenilor pe care i?am cunos?cut ?i, desigur, ale sufletului meu, undeva, ?n str?fundurile mele consider?ndu?m?, ca mul?i semeni de?ai mei, oarecum poet… (Ladislau Daradici)

Ca orice construc?ie solid?, ?i un sistem de g?ndire se pl?smuie?te pe structura unor con?cepte fundamentale cu func?ii vitaminizante pentru ?ntreaga desf??urare a g?ndului ?i pen?tru ?nchegarea lui ?ntr?o viziune articulat? ?i complex?, marcat? de cele dou? condi?ii indis?pensabile unui sistem: completitudinea ?i non?contradic?ia. ?i mai preciz?m, chiar cu riscul suspiciunii de banal, c? un sistem de g?ndire articulat nu las? ?i nu trebuie s? lase r?m??i?e sau componente necuprinse ?n ansamblu. C?ci un sistem incomplet, cu resturi sau componen?te r?mase ?n afara ?ntregului ??i pierde carac?teristica de sistem. S? preciz?m totu?i c? vorbim despre sis?tem ?ntr?un loc unde, nu doar c? lipse?te, dar a ?i fost repudiat cu o insisten?? repetat? ?i ?n?d?rjit?. Nu spun c? furia lui Cioran ?mpotriva ideii de sistem filosofic nu??i are ra?iunile ei, spun doar c? chiar acolo unde este t?g?duit?, o anumit? viziune de ansamblu asupra lumii este totu?i implicit?. Nu se poate vorbi despre parte, despre fragment f?r? s? se aib? ?n vede?re imaginea totului ?i felul cum o diviziune este a?ezat? ?n p?ntecul exist?rii. Ionel Necula

This Book, is a collection of short stories about Russia. Book contains many collections of short stories by the popular and influential Russian author, a founder of the socialist realism literary method and arguably the greatest Russian literary figure of the 20th century. Maxim Gorky also wrote about stories, plays, memoirs and novels which touched the imagination of the Russian people, and was the first Russian author to write sympathetically of such characters as tramps and thieves, emphasizing their daily struggles against overwhelming odds..Some Other Books Maxim Gorky: Mother (1907) Creatures That Once Were Men (1918) Twenty-six and One and Other Stories (1902) The Man Who Was Afraid (1901)

Surse oficiale precizeaz?: Metroul-2 este un obiectiv guvernamental, care prezint? interes din punctul de vedere al leg?turilor subterane ?i, ?n caz de necesitate, poate fi folosit at?t ca sistem sigur de comunica?ii, c?t ?i ca mijloc de transport. Dac?, p?n? ?n prezent, n-au existat motive s? fie ascunse aceste informa?ii, atunci, de ce nu se spune dac? Metroul-2 este depozit secret pentru rezervele de aur ale Rusiei sau tunel care duce la cele mai mari z?c?minte de bog??ii minerale sau drumul folosit de Stalin ca s? mearg? la ?nt?lnirile cu Buharin? Ce s-a petrecut ?i ce se petrece acolo? Mai ?nt?i, de ce au fost ?mpu?ca?i constructorii Metroului-2? De ce au disp?rut at??ia oameni ?i de unde a ap?rut plutoniul pentru armament sub p?m?nt? Cine folose?te ?n prezent bunc?rul de sub Kremlin? De ce se ascund cu grij? informa?iile despre acesta, despre bunc?rul secret a lui Stalin ?i despre ?nmorm?nt?rile ?n mas? din subteranele metroului? Sau despre legendara bibliotec? a lui Ivan cel Groaznic, precum ?i despre cauzele pr?bu?irii parcului acvatic din Moscova? Despre toate acestea ?i despre multe altele v? va povesti un ziarist care a cutreierat ?mpreun? cu diggerii tunelurile subterane ?i s-a ini?iat ?n tainele sumbre ale metrourilor din Piter ?i Moscova.

iganii lui Miron Radu Paraschivescu nu sunt arztorii gitanos andaluzi rzboindu-se cu la guardia civil, ci biei oameni nevoiai, obedieni, care-i cnt iubirile arzoaie, se blestem, se prsc, viseaz, iar nfruntrile cele mai sngeroase dintre ei nu depesc vendeta mrunt din Ric, ce aduce aminte de strlucitul cntec btrnesc Toma Alimo.“ – Ilie Constantin