Grāmata.
Jun. 28., 2010 | 04:45 pm
Salman Rushdie. East, West.
Just for fun nolēmu palasīt Rušdi stāstus. Tomēr joprojām man labāk patīk viņa biezie romāni. Stāstiem, protams, nav ne vainas; un kuram gan citam rakstīt tādus krāsainus east, west un east-west stāstus!
"Home, like Hell, turned out to be other people. For me, it turned out to be her."
/S.R./
"The confession took Muhammad Ali by surprise, but he nodded with what he hoped looked like wisdom."
/S.R./
"But I, too have ropes around my neck, I have them to this day, pulling me this way and that, East and West, the nooses tightening, commanding, choose, choose."
/S.R./
Just for fun nolēmu palasīt Rušdi stāstus. Tomēr joprojām man labāk patīk viņa biezie romāni. Stāstiem, protams, nav ne vainas; un kuram gan citam rakstīt tādus krāsainus east, west un east-west stāstus!
"Home, like Hell, turned out to be other people. For me, it turned out to be her."
/S.R./
"The confession took Muhammad Ali by surprise, but he nodded with what he hoped looked like wisdom."
/S.R./
"But I, too have ropes around my neck, I have them to this day, pulling me this way and that, East and West, the nooses tightening, commanding, choose, choose."
/S.R./