I search the Web, and am unable to find a picture of her anywhere. Nothing. But her poems, it seems are almost everywhere: I find them posted on blog after blog, almost as if they were being passed from hand to hand as a kind of solace for our days.
"A thinker’s wife is thought, and he must always leave her in the underworld." - Rather than Casanova’s erotic life, it is his intellectual mission that is Miklós Szentkuthy’s concern in "Marginalia on Casanova", published in English for the first time.
Lord of illusions or exhibitor of shadows, there is something of the devourer in this man, who cannot bear to live cramped in one body, one life, one language. — Marginalia on Casanova, the "utterly unclassifiable work of Miklós Szentkuthy" is published in English for the first time by Contra Mundum Press.
I look like someone who was born in a sewer and never crawled out. Journalist? Film critic? What a laugh. No one in the neighborhood believed it. I wouldn’t have believed either. No dignity, no pride. Just a filthy animal who’ll rob anyone with their back turned.