Y Vuelta al Infierno
“I have reservoirs of want enough
to freeze many nights over.” Conor O’Callaghan
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Quote reblogged from A la recherche du temps perduI sat on a gray stone bench
ringed with the ingenue faces
of pink and white impatiens
and placed my grief
in the mouth of language,
the only thing that would grieve with me.Lisel Mueller, from “When I Am Asked” (via proustitute) -
Photo reblogged from evoke the forms
“All our language is composed of brief little dreams; and the wonderful thing is that we sometimes make of them strangely accurate and marvelously reasonable thoughts. What should we be without the help of that which does not exist? Very little. And our unoccupied minds would languish if fables, mistaken notions, abstractions, beliefs, and monsters, hypotheses, and the so-called problems of metaphysics did not people with beings and objectless images our natural depths and darkness. Myths are the souls of our actions and our loves. We cannot act without moving towards a phantom. We can love only what we create.”
—Paul Valéry
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Photo reblogged from L'etat et moi
“Perhaps, when we remember wars, we should take off our clothes and paint ourselves blue and go on all fours all day long and grunt like pigs. That would surely be more appropriate than noble oratory and shows of flags and well-oiled guns.” — Kurt Vonnegut, Cat’s Cradle
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Photo reblogged from mezza☾una (dot) me
“the world is made just to drive a man crazy.”
orhan veli, a modernist poet (1914-1950)
photo by ara güler, from ara güler: creating the 20th century
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Quote reblogged from Silence | SoundsPeople often ask me questions that I cannot very well answer in words, and it makes me sad to think they are unable to hear the voice of my silence.Inayat Khan (via silencesounds)
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Quote reblogged from seeking the lost generationI have come to believe that the whole world is an enigma, a harmless enigma that is made terrible by our own mad attempt to interpret it as though it had an underlying truth.
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You cannot escape the revelation of the identical by taking refuge in the illusion of the multiple.Foucault’s Pendulum, Umberto Eco
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Quote reblogged from A la recherche du temps perduThe mind was dreaming. The world was its dream.Jorge Luis Borges, from “The Circular Ruins” in Collected Fictions, trans. Andrew Hurley (via proustitute)
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Qui dove il mare luccica
e tira forte il vento
su una vecchia terrazza davanti al golfo di Sorrento
un uomo abbraccia una ragazza
dopo che aveva pianto
poi si schiarisce la voce e ricomincia il canto:Te voglio bene assai
ma tanto tanto bene sai
e’ una catena ormai
che scioglie il sangue dint’ e’ vene sai…Vide le luci in mezzo al mare
pensò alle notti la in America
ma erano solo le lampare
e la bianca scia di un’elica
sentì il dolore nella musica
si alzò dal Pianoforte
ma quando vide la luna uscire da una nuvola
gli sembrò più dolce anche la morte
Guardò negli occhi la ragazza
quegli occhi verdi come il mare
poi all’improvviso uscì una lacrima
e lui credette di affogare.Te voglio bene assai
ma tanto tanto bene sai
e’ una catena ormai
e scioglie il sangue dint’e vene sai…Potenza della lirica
dove ogni dramma e’ un falso
che con un po’ di trucco e con la mimica
puoi diventare un altro
Ma due occhi che ti guardano
così vicini e veri
ti fanno scordare le parole
confondono i pensieri.Così diventò tutto piccolo
anche le notti la in America
ti volti e vedi la tua vita
come la scia di un’elica.Ah si, e’ la vita che finisce
ma lui non ci pensò poi tanto
anzi si sentiva felice
e ricominciò il suo canto:Te voglio bene assai
ma tanto tanto bene sai
e’ una catena ormai
che scioglie il sangue dint’e vene sai…
Te voglio bene assai
ma tanto tanto bene sai
e’ una catena ormai
che scioglie il sangue dint’e vene sai…Translation:
Here, where the sea shines
and the wind howls,
on the old terrace beside the gulf of Sorrento,
a man embraces a girl
he wept after,
then clears his throat and continues the song:I love you very much,
very, very much, you know;
it is a chain by now
that melts the blood inside the veins, you know…He saw the lights out on the sea,
thought of the nights there in America,
but they were only the fishermen’s lamps
and the white wash astern.
He felt the pain in the music
and stood up from the piano,
but when he saw the moon emerging from a cloud
death also seemed sweeter to him.
He looked the girl in the eyes,
those eyes as green as the sea.
Then suddenly a tear fell
and he believed he was drowning.I love you very much,
very, very much, you know,
it is a chain by now
that melts the blood inside the vein you know…The power of opera,
where every drama is a hoax;
with a little make-up and with mime
you can become someone else.
But two eyes that look at you,
so close and real,
make you forget the words,
confuse your thoughts,
So everything became small,
also the nights there in America.
You turn and see your life
through the white wash astern.But, yes, it is life that ends
and he did not think so much about it
on the contrary, he already felt happy
and continued his song:I love you very much,
very, very much, you know,
it is a chain by now
that melts the blood inside the veins, you know…I love you very much,
very, very much, you know,
it is a chain by now
that melts the blood inside the veins, you know…Caruso -
Quote reblogged from A la recherche du temps perduI escape into sleep. Sleep is what I’ll miss most when I die.Anna Kamienska, from “A Nest of Quiet,” trans. Clare Cavanagh (via proustitute)
