❝ Now and then there are readings that make the hairs on the neck, the non-existent pelt, stand on end and tremble, when every word burns and shines hard and clear and infinite and exact, like stones of fire, like points of stars in the dark—readings when the knowledge that we shall know the writing differently or better or satisfactorily, runs ahead of any capacity to say what we know, or how. In these readings, a sense that the text has appeared to be wholly new, never before seen, is followed, almost immediately, by the sense that it was always there, that we the readers, knew it was always there, and have always known it was as it was, though we have now for the first time recognised, become fully cognisant of, our knowledge.
— A.S. Byatt, Possession (via observando)
❝ Besides, it is not only time
that ages us. Though years
can write upon our skin
with unseen knives,
some things must be stolen to be lost.
— Sean Patrick Mulroy, from “picture of a lover at 19,” Nailed (April 9, 2013)
Livre, livre, molto livre - Carlo Gesualdo (1566 – 1613)
I don’t post much classical music, though this is pretty different from any other music ever made. Gesualdo was a Renaissance composer whose use of strange harmonies and chromaticism was a good 300 years ahead of his time.
Ah yes. The Iliad featuring such highbrow insults as “dogface”, “sack of wine”, and “commander of trash”.
❝ Ever eating, never cloying,
Never finding full repast,
Till I eat the world at last.
— Jonathan Swift (via mycolorbook)