Archive for the ‘literatura piękna’ Category

Kiedy bez chwili wahania podbiegła bliżej, kolor habitu podpowiedział jej, że to franciszkanin, a więc mężczyzna.

Andrzej Bart Don Juan raz jeszcze, Polityka S.P. 2009


Maszejko (do Widma):

A! Co widzę! Pani dobrodzika. Dobry wieczór, wieczór dobry. Jakże zdróweczko?

Widmo (Gestem królowej daje mu rękę do pocałowania.)

Dobry wieczór, panie Maszejko. Dziękuję ci: mam się dobrze, tylko jestem widmem.

Stanisław Ignacy Witkiewicz, W małym dworku, Wydawnictwo Zielona Sowa 2006

He switched to opera — usually in Italian or German so that he was not distracted even by the minimal intellectual content that most operas contained. This phase lasted for two weeks, before he realised that the sound of all these superbly trained voices was only exacerbating his loneliness. But what finally ended this cycle was Verdi’s Requiem Mass, which he had never heard performed on Earth. The ‚Dies Irae’, roaring with ominous appropriateness through the empty ship, left him completely sharttered; and when the trumpets of Doomsday echoed from the heavens, he could endure no more.
Thereafter, he played only instrumental music. He started with the romantic composers, but shed them one by one as their emotional outpourings became too oppressive. Sibelius, Tchaikovsky. Berlioz lasted a few weeks, Beethoven rather longer. He finally found peace, as so many other had done, in the abstract architecture of Bach, occasionally ornamented with Mozart.

Arthur C. Clarke 2001. A Space Odyssey, Orbit, 2008