Philosophical Conceptualization and Literary Art: Inference, Ereignis, and Conceptual Attunement to the Work of Poetic Genius

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Fairleigh Dickinson Univ Press, 2004 - Literary Criticism - 231 pages
This book offers an original orientation to how speculative thinking may be profoundly stimulated - the philosophical imagination transformatively enlarged - through intermediating engagements with the work of art. The author illustrates the practical implications of this orientation by selecting an inferential model of concept formation to highlight the philosophically pregnant routes of inference that such engagements can sponsor.Separate chapters show how a variety of independently interesting metaphysical, phenomenological, and onto-aesthetic concepts of Desmond, Otto, and Heidegger get amplified and deepened when entertained as conceptual attunements rather than as fixed, mediating terms. The study culminates by focusing on how an intermediating engagement with artwork can inferentially enlarge the very concept of the work of art.

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Contents

Introduction
17
Conceptual Attunement and Literary Art
27
Ontological Reflection Ode on a Grecian Urn and the Senses of Being
81
The Phenomenological Key The Sensus Numinis in Emily Dickinsons Verse
134
Aesthetic Inference and Insight Artworks Work Werksein and Wallace Stevenss Idea of Order at Key West
173
Conclusion
201
Bibliography
205
Index
219
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Page 79 - Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare; Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss, Though winning near the goal yet, do not grieve; She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss, For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair! Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu; And, happy melodist, unwearied, For ever piping songs for ever new; More happy love!
Page 116 - Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral! When old age shall this generation waste, Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st, Beauty is truth, truth beauty,— that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.
Page 102 - Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on; Not to the sensual ear, but, more endeared, Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone...
Page 79 - Fair youth beneath the trees, thou canst not leave Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare; Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss, Though winning near the goal — yet, do not grieve; She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss, For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair ! Ah, happy, happy boughs!
Page 80 - O Attic shape ! Fair attitude ! with brede Of marble men and maidens overwrought, With forest branches and the trodden weed ; Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought As doth eternity : Cold Pastoral ! When old age shall this generation waste, Thou shall remain, in midst of other woe Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st, " Beauty is truth, truth beauty," — that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.
Page 79 - ODE ON A GRECIAN URN THOU still unravish'd bride of quietness, Thou foster-child of Silence and slow Time, Sylvan historian, who canst thus express A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme: What leaf-fringed legend haunts about thy shape Of deities or mortals, or of both, In Tempe or the dales of Arcady? What men or gods are these? What maidens loth? What mad pursuit? ? What struggle to escape? What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy?
Page 166 - I heard a Fly buzz - when I died The Stillness in the Room Was like the Stillness in the Air Between the Heaves of Storm The Eyes around - had wrung them dry And Breaths were gathering firm For that last Onset - when the King Be witnessed - in the Room I willed my Keepsakes - Signed away What portion of me be Assignable - and then it was There interposed a Fly With Blue - uncertain stumbling Buzz — Between the light - and me...
Page 182 - She sang beyond the genius of the sea. The water never formed to mind or voice, Like a body wholly body, fluttering Its empty sleeves; and yet its mimic motion Made constant cry, caused constantly a cry, That was not ours although we understood, Inhuman, of the veritable ocean.
Page 111 - Who are these coming to the sacrifice? To what green altar, O mysterious priest, Lead'st thou that heifer lowing at the skies, And all her silken flanks with garlands drest ? What little town by river or...

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