Nothing is as tedious as the limping days,
When snowdrifts yearly cover all the ways,
And ennui, sour fruit of incurious gloom,
Assumes control of fate’s immortal loom
Nothing is as tedious as the limping days,
When snowdrifts yearly cover all the ways,
And ennui, sour fruit of incurious gloom,
Assumes control of fate’s immortal loom
“The question of genres is simply unimportant for me, and very often I turn to different modes of writing. I want to write about things that interest me and in ways that interest me. One could simply say that I attempt certain mental experiments and try to create certain situational models. I would also add that the conventions of normal, realistic literature, or whatever you call it, are insufficient for me. It is so because they usually limit one’s field of vision to small groups of people, while I am interested in the fate of humanity as a whole, even more so than in the fate of individuals.”
Stanisław Lem