The Morning Gift
C’est ainsi que, dans ma propre ville, je vivais soudainement au centre de l’Europe. Une fois encore, le destin avait exaucé un de mes vœux, que j’aurais à peine osé concevoir moi-même, et notre maison sur le Kapuzinerberg devint une maison européenne. Qui n’en a pas été l’hôte ? Notre livre d’or pourrait l’attester mieux que le simple souvenir, ma
... See moreStefan Zweig • Le Monde d'hier: Souvenirs d'un Européen (French Edition)
A clear starry sky looked down upon the dark abodes of humanity. Kerkau castle lay in the deep stillness of night. And yet a woman with fair curly hair buried her head in the pillows and could find no sleep. Tomorrow, ah tomorrow, one she loves, her sweetheart, was to forsake her. A whisper passed (ran) through the gloomy, impenetrable (dark) night
... See moreAlfred Döblin • Berlin Alexanderplatz
I remembered again two clear sounds, the penny whistle at the beginning of the bombardment, the bird singing at the end of it. Between these two sounds there showed a chink of light through which I could see the start of a more hopeful life, a future in which the courage of people could also be used for their greater happiness and well-being. The n
... See moreInez Holden • Blitz Writing
A little over a month before, they’d driven up to Orvieto, a city built on a huge rock overlooking the Paglia Valley. They’d sat on the bonnet of the jeep and drunk red wine out of their canteens as bombers roared overhead towards Mount Cetona, the boundary of Tuscany. They’d stumbled into the cathedral, into the San Brizio chapel, where Luca Signo
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