MAREK HLASKO

I can't dream about immortal fireflies, but I can fight for human freedom.

At first, one believes in love. Then one crosses a border, a border of time. Then that belief, too, is lost.

A writer without his country is nothing.

I've lost Poland. Without Poland, I go down. I've been thrown out; yet I love my country.

The road that led me to literature was very different from the one followed by my fellow writers in Poland.

I can't dream about immortal fireflies, but I can fight for human freedom.

I've lost Poland. Without Poland, I go down. I've been thrown out; yet I love my country.

The road that led me to literature was very different from the one followed by my fellow writers in Poland.

At first, one believes in love. Then one crosses a border, a border of time. Then that belief, too, is lost.

A writer without his country is nothing.