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Lädt ... The Poet and the Donkeyvon May Sarton
Keine Lädt ...
Melde dich bei LibraryThing an um herauszufinden, ob du dieses Buch mögen würdest. Keine aktuelle Diskussion zu diesem Buch. A charming and quick little book about a poet who has lost his muse and is no longer able to write, and the donkey he borrows from his neighbors, who, in time, becomes his missing muse. There isn't much to this story, which is refreshing; the book really does just follow the poet as he borrows the donkey and learns to navigate the language between the two until they both become just what the other needed. There's a moral, of course, but overall this is the perfect book if you need something to just make your afternoon that much better. This little novel was my first introduction to May Sarton. I thoroughly enjoyed every page of this small tale about a lonely, bitter poet living in a small New Hampshire town who is looking for his Muse in all the wrong places. That is, until he meets Whiffenpoof, the geriatric, yet sassy, donkey. There are some of the sweetest moments in literature, both with people reaching out to each other, tentatively, to find that common human bond we all share. Also, there are just some wonderful, real and beautiful moments of a quiet life shared with animals and people who love them. The depictions of the poet's cats are hilarious. Highly recommended for a nice, little escape and wonderful character development. Zeige 3 von 3 keine Rezensionen | Rezension hinzufügen
May Sarton (1912-1995) was an acclaimed poet, novelist, and memoirist. Keine Bibliotheksbeschreibungen gefunden. |
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"How often, in human affairs, just such a simple misunderstanding of motive or need causes all the pain and anger! Because we have all the words we think we can explain ourselves to each other, but how often words fail - the elusive fish of personal truth slipping through them unseen and unheard. But, Andy though, in relation with an animal we are back in the good wordless world which tests our naked sensitivity. Intuition, sensing, is everything."
"...holding the motion of a poem in his hands..." ( )