Concepts such as the "greatness" of these works or, God forbid, a sensibility for transcendence are non-existent: the system offers them no houseroom. The outcome of all this is "fatal mediocrity." This is how László Földényi F. sees contemporary German literature.
The word “happy” is a surprisingly rarely used term in Hungarian literature, and this is one of the reasons why I chose to use it. It is rather the expressions for “unhappiness” that have become all too trivial.
In the end just a single figure was still paddling around in the
gleaming water. It was a handsome man, elegant as a Venetian amoroso: a
haughty profile, sternly gazing fiery eyes, a dark green silk cravat
round his neck—those were what were caressed by fading light. Around him
the fabulous landscape: sky, water, clouds, mundane visual delights...