Life struck me as several cuts above “meh” but never made me jump out of my seat.
From Voltaire's "Poème sur le désastre de Lisbonne," written in response to the Lisbon earthquake of 1755:
What crime, what sin, had those young hearts conceived That lie, bleeding and torn, on mother's breast? Did fallen Lisbon deeper drink of vice Than London, Paris, or sunlit Madrid? In these men dance; at Lisbon yawns the abyss. Tranquil spectators of your brothers' wreck, Unmoved by this repellent dance of death, Who calmly seek the reason of such storms, Let them but lash your own security; Your tears will mingle freely with the flood.
A celebration of director David Lynch's filmography in anticipation of an upcoming retrospective at the IFC Center in...
A review of the fourth original Marvel series for Netflix. And the worst.
This message came to me from a reader named Peter Svensland. He and a fr...
A classic thriller that moves with a sense of purpose.