Encompass’d with a thousand dangers, Weary, faint, trembling with a thousand terrors. . . . I . . . in a fleshy tomb, am Buried above ground – William Cowper
Archive for June, 2009
fleshy
Posted in Quotes, tagged Quotes on June 4, 2009 | Leave a Comment »
Bloomsday Countdown
Posted in Quotes, tagged Bloomsday, James Joyce, Quotes, Ulysses on June 1, 2009 | Leave a Comment »
Take a bath now: clean trough of water, cool enamel, the gentle tepid stream. This is my body. He foresaw his pale body reclined in it at full, naked, in a womb of warmth, oiled by scented melting soap, softly laved. He saw his trunk and limbs riprippled over and sustained, buoyed lightly upwards, lemonyellow: [...]
Night Falls Fast
Posted in Quotes, tagged Quotes on June 1, 2009 | Leave a Comment »
Night falls fast. Today is in the past. Blown from the dark hill hither to my door Three flakes, then four Arrive, then many more. – Edna St. Vincent Millay
The reader of his own self
Posted in Quotes, tagged Quotes on June 1, 2009 | Leave a Comment »
In reality every reader is, while he is reading, the reader of his own self. The writer’s work is merely a kind of optical instrument which he offers to the reader to enable him to discern what, without this book, he would perhaps never have perceived in himself. – Proust, Time Regained
4,000 year old Egyptian suicide note
Posted in Quotes, tagged Quotes on June 1, 2009 | Leave a Comment »
Lo, my name is abhorred, Lo, more than the odour of carrion On summer days when the sky is hot. Lo, my name is abhorred, Lo, more than the odour of crocodiles, More than sitting under the bank of crocodiles. Lo, my name is abhorred, Lo, more than a woman Against whom a lie is [...]
Sorrows are Servants
Posted in Quotes, tagged Quotes on June 1, 2009 | Leave a Comment »
Sorrows are servants, obscure and detested, against whom one struggles, beneath whose dominion one more and more completely falls, dire and dreadful servants whom it is impossible to replace and who by subterranean paths lead us towards truth and death. – Proust, Time Regained
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