Anni Mirabiles, 1921-1925: Reason in the Madness of Letters

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Reference Department, Library of Congress, 1956 - Literature, Modern - 55 pages

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Page 27 - All the authors of revolutions in opinion are not only necessarily poets as they are inventors, nor even as their words unveil the permanent analogy of things by images which participate in the life of truth; but as their periods are harmonious and rhythmical, and contain in themselves the elements of verse; being the echo of the eternal music.
Page 40 - Leda and the Swan A sudden blow: the great wings beating still Above the staggering girl, her thighs caressed By the dark webs, her nape caught in his bill He holds her helpless breast upon his breast.
Page 32 - Phlebas the Phoenician, a fortnight dead, Forgot the cry of gulls, and the deep sea swell And the profit and loss.
Page 2 - So here I am, in the middle way, having had twenty years — Twenty years largely wasted, the years of Venire deux guerres — Trying to learn to use words, and every attempt Is a wholly new start, and a different kind of failure...
Page 14 - Socrates leave his house today he will find the sage seated on his doorstep. If Judas go forth tonight it is to Judas his steps will tend. Every life is many days, day after day. We walk through ourselves, meeting robbers, ghosts, giants, old men, young men, wives, widows, brothersin-love. But always meeting ourselves.
Page 40 - A DEEP-SWORN VOW Others because you did not keep That deep-sworn vow have been friends of mine; Yet always when I look death in the face, When I clamber to the heights of sleep, Or when I grow excited with wine, Suddenly I meet your face.
Page 2 - And what there is to conquer By strength and submission, has already been discovered Once or twice, or several times, by men whom one cannot hope To emulate — but there is no competition — There is only the fight to recover what has been lost And found and lost again and again : and now, under conditions That seem unpropitious. But perhaps neither gain nor loss. For us, there is only the trying. The rest is not our business.
Page 2 - Trying to learn to use words, and every attempt Is a wholly new start, and a different kind of failure Because one has only learnt to get the better of words For the thing one no longer has to say, or the way in which One is no longer disposed to say it. And so each venture Is a new beginning, a raid on the inarticulate With shabby equipment always deteriorating In the general mess of imprecision of feeling, Undisciplined squads of emotion...
Page 40 - A shudder in the loins engenders there The broken wall, the burning roof and tower 10 And Agamemnon dead.
Page 2 - We must be still and still moving Into another intensity For a further union, a deeper communion Through the dark cold and the empty desolation, The wave cry, the wind cry, the vast waters Of the petrel and the porpoise. In my end is my beginning.

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