Imagine the world around you slowly blinking out, your familiar world disappearing into darkness till you begin to doubt not only the world’s existence but your own as well. In this terrifying blindness can you find the light? This is…
By: Nathaniel Rupp A Vichian Analysis of “What the Thunder Said” What did the thunder say? This is the question one must ask when reading part V of T.S. Eliot’s “The Waste Land.” To do this is to begin…
By: Linda M. Crate i‘m sure you’ve done this song and dance before because you were so sincere with your insincerity, and i‘m sure she has no idea that you‘ve made her the scarlet devil that i wanted to burn…
By: Linda M. Crate i‘ll be a star in someone else’s sky forever i‘ll wonder why things had to be this way, but heaven knows maybe i‘m safer to never know that answer; so i‘m not going to make myself sick…
By: Linda M. Crate you took my love for granted left me cold and bare without the golden autumn laughter, my breaths were shattered as my heart; everything felt like a zombie dream forgot what my brain was used for…
By: Linda M. Crate i love penguins and white tigers, but leave all those arctic wolves buried in their snow father’s arms they only use their fangs to wound and impale; i love polar bears and white foxes, but leave…
By: Mikayla Simmons It’s finally here, the worst day of the year, thanksgiving. The night before I had laid down on the grass in the turkey pen, and the next thing I know, I’m stuck in the trunk of a…
The Jaipur Literature Festival, claimed to be the world’s largest free literary festival, today announced the first line-up of authors set to attend next year’s festival, which runs from 17th – 21st January 2014. Featuring Pulitzer Prize winners, academics from…
By: Kousik Adhikari Ayn Rand in her ‘The Romantic Manifesto’ pointed out that thriller is in a way a kind of simplified version of the romantic literature. We could also add with some certainty that thrillers may be called also…
By: Michael C. Keith Drawing is the true test of art. –– J.A.D. Ingres Year after year, Maurice Lucerne set up his wooden easel on the narrow streets of Paris’s Left Bank and painted caricatures for tourists. It was how…