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<b>Night.</b> Two Icelandic Jóns stagger waywardly through a burning city. The learned Grindavíkian is bawling like a child. The farmer from Rein plo… - Halldór Laxness
" "Night. Two Icelandic Jóns stagger waywardly through a burning city. The learned Grindavíkian is bawling like a child. The farmer from Rein plods silently behind. The fire of Copenhagen is at their heels, driving them on in the direction of Nørreport. The sea of flames turns terrified folk into frantic silhouettes, fleshly phantoms.
English
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About Halldór Laxness
Halldór Kiljan Laxness (23 April 1902 – 8 February 1998), born Halldór Guðjónsson, was a 20th century Icelandic author who won the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1955.
Also Known As
Alternative Names:
Halldór Kiljan Laxness
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Halldor Laxness
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Halldor Kiljan Laxness
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Additional quotes by Halldór Laxness
It was odd that I should discover eternity in this way, long before I knew what eternity was, and even before I had learned the proposition that all man are mortal - yes, while I was actually living in eternity myself. It was as if a fish were suddenly to discover the water it swam in. I mentioned this to my grandfather one day when we happened to be alone in the living-room.
My opinion has always been this, that you ought to never give up as long as you live, even though they have stolen everything from you. If nothing else, you can always call the air you breath your own, or at any rate you can claim that you have it on loan. Yes, lass, last night I ate stolen bread and left my son among men who are going to use pick-handles on the authorities, so I thought I might just as well look you up this morning.
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