Archives for the month of: January, 2013

“And that, to be restored, our sickness must grow worse.” – T.S. Eliot.


In order to arrive there,

To arrive where you are, to get from where you are not,

You must go by a way wherein there is no ecstasy

In order to arrive at what you do not know,

You must go by a way which is the way of ignorance.

In order to possess what you do not possess,

You must go by way of dispossession.

In order to arrive at what you are not

You must go through the way in which you are not.

And what you do not know is the only thing you know

And what you own is what you do not own

And where you are is where you are not.

– Eryximachus

1. The Himalayas, Tibet

1.1 The British Museum, London, England

2. Naples, Italy: “When you walk down in a dream but you know you’re not dreaming, that’s amore”

3. Venice, Italy

4. Boston, USA

5. Quang Tri, Viet Nam

6. The Shetland Isles, Scotland

7. Ireland

8. Delphi, Greece

9. Hungary

10. Poland

11. Green forests, Ireland

12. Austria

13. Freiburg, Germany

14. Krka National Park, Croatia

15. Lopud Island, Croatia

16. Nachhauseweg, Germany

17. Cafe´ Pru¨ckel

She walks in beauty, like the night

Of cloudless climes and starry skies;

And all that’s best of dark and light

Meet in her aspect and her eyes:

Thus mellow’d to that tender night,

Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,

Had half impair’d the nameless grace

Which waves in every raven tress,

Or softly lightens o’er her face;

Where thoughts serenely sweet express

How pure, how dear their dwelling place.


And on that cheek, and o’er that brow

So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,

The smile that wins, the tint that glows,

But tell of days in goodness spent,

A mind at peace with all below,

A heart whose love is innocent!

–Lord Byron



Cái đẹp thành thực, hồn nhiên, mộc mạc…

Cũng như người đàn bà, con gái đẹp không phải vì quần áo, vì son phấn, mà chính vì cái chất đẹp trong người tiết ra.

– Vũ Bằng, trích Thương Nhớ Mười Hai

Il a mis le café
Dans la tasse
Il a mis le lait
Dans la tasse de café
Il a mis le sucre
Dans le café au lait
Avec la petite cuiller
Il a tourné
Il a bu le café au lait
Et il a reposé la tasse
Sans me parler
Il a allumé
Une cigarette
Il a fait des ronds
Avec la fumée
Il a mis les cendres
Dans le cendrier
Sans me parler
Sans me regarder
Il s’est levé
Il a mis
Son chapeau sur sa tête
Il a mis son manteau de pluie
Parce qu’il pleuvait
Et il est parti
Sous la pluie
Sans une parole
Sans me regarder
Et moi j’ai pris
Ma tête dans ma main
Et j’ai pleuré

– Paul Johnson, from Modern Times.

— F.A. Hayek.

— Friedrich A. Hayek