The Little Review, April 1916 (Vol. 3, No. 2) — John Shaqi
The Little Review, April 1916 (Vol. 3, No. 2)Various
General
The Little Review, April 1916 (Vol. 3, No. 2)
Various
Literature, Modern -- 20th century -- Periodicals
Won’t readers remember to order their books through the Gotham Book
Society? You can get any book you want from them, whether it is listed
in their advertisement or not, and THE LITTLE REVIEW makes a percentage
on the sales. Our margin of profit per book is small, but it all helps
very much and the continuation of the magazine depends upon just such
co-operation. We have two thousand subscribers. If each one of them
would order one dollar’s worth of books a month we should make about two
hundred dollars out of it,—which would pay for two issues of the
magazine and enable us to eat regularly besides. Will you please
remember?
_The Russian Literature Group_
Alexander Kaun’s next lecture on Russian Literature will be on
Dostoevsky, and will be given April 16, at 8:30 P. M., in 612 Fine Arts
Building. Mr. Kaun is becoming more interesting with each lecture—by
which I mean that he is revealing more of Kaun the artist, and less of
Kaun the professor.
_Independent Society of Artists_
The first international exhibition of this new organization will be held
on April 4 in the Ohio Building, Wabash Avenue and Congress Street, from
three to seven P. M.
“_Because of the War_”—
Paper is going up. We can’t help looking ugly this month.
The Beautiful and the Terrible. Which is which will never be put
into words. But I am free to tell myself; and let me but preserve
the senses—my eyes, my ears, my touch, and all shall be well—all
shall seem far more beautiful than terrible—_Gordon Craig._
Only fanaticism is possible for phlegmatic natures.—_Nietzsche._
Flamingo Dreams
LUPO DE BRAILA
A burst of passion in a pagan god’s eye was the sunrise as I saw it from
the top of Mount Rose one morning last summer. Trembling and with
squinting eyes I looked at the grand spectacle, fearing to go blind if I
opened my eyes.
The sun stretched its arms and with flaming fingers lifted the
bluish-grey blanket from the Nevada hills and the Truckee Valley.
Feeling that the beauty of this moment could not be surpassed, I turned
my face toward California and ran down the western side of Mount Rose.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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