There is something impure in the laments about the dangers of our time, as if they could serve to excuse our personal failure.


J. Agee, trans. (1989), p. 108 - Das Geheimherz der Uhr [The Secret Heart of the Clock] (1987)


There is something impure in the laments about the dangers of our time, as if they could serve to excuse our personal failure.

There is something impure in the laments about the dangers of our time, as if they could serve to excuse our personal failure.

There is something impure in the laments about the dangers of our time, as if they could serve to excuse our personal failure.

There is something impure in the laments about the dangers of our time, as if they could serve to excuse our personal failure.