Tags » The New York Review Of Books
‘Sein Blick ist vom Vorübergehn der Stäbe
so müd geworden, daß er nichts mehr hält.
Ihm ist, als ob es tausend Stäbe gäbe
und hinter tausend Stäben keine Welt. 638 more words
While studying Economics in college in the late seventies and early eighties, there was no escape from addressing the question of ‘value’.
Unlike my classmates who took to Economics as a necessary path to graduation and a job thereafter, I grew disillusioned with it from the very first year of my studies, finding everything an abstraction. 386 more words
Self used to have a subscription to The New York Review of Books. Oh how she mourns, mourns, mourns that absence, it was her go-to publication for really good writing, such as the one in the 9 July 2015 issue, Colm Toibin’s essay “The Hard-Won Truth of the North.” 136 more words