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“Works of art are of an infinite solitude, and no means of approach is so useless as criticism. Only love can touch and hold them and be fair to them.”—Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters To A Young Poet
“Everything is gestation and then birthing.”—Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters To A Young Poet
“From my heart comes out and dances the image of my own desire. The gleaming image flits on. I try to clasp it firmly, it eludes me and leads me astray. I seek what I cannot get, I get what I do not seek.”—Rabindranath Tagore, The Gardener
Monday, 12:20 PM, Costco, Okotoks, Alberta.
Outside temperature, minus twenty-five degrees Celcius. For those familiar with the Fahrenheit scale that’s about 12 degrees… Kelvin.
Slowly regaining equilibrium from the weekend. Granted—of a pineal sort—but equilibrium all the same. Done is the junior hockey game and a couple too many beers with the Son and Heir. (I had the beers, he’s only seven.) Done are the outdoor hockey and family skate at the community rink beneath the blackened sky and festal strings of lights, the bonfire at centre ice, the free pizza, hot dogs, and hot chocolate. Done are the movies: Date Night Saturday for a laugh; Harry Potter And The Goblet Of Fire Sunday for Sonny-Boy.
All done now. It’s back to work.
How to follow up a pair of posts that modestly sought to encompass the entire grand sweep of humankind’s works of art and hence the comprehensive record of our inner sense of life?—the vast arcing trajectory of a culture, from inchoate birth and early development up to instant or instants of rich and utterly balanced fulfillment, then downward again from that unified peak into over-elaboration and nullity—that’s the task at hand.
Posts like that can be a little sapping. From wild euphoria you swing down to a drained utter catatonic stupor, leaving you with nothing. Best to go for a skate, watch a movie, pick up a book—any book—and read a few pages.
That’s when the quoting comes in handy too. Like carrying a little quiet corner of the Omphalos Cafe around with you. When it’s too cold to head out that is.
Helps return you to the hub—where everything of importance springs.
Including blog posts.
From someone for whom literary criticism is a routine way of life: I’ve always oddly loved that Rilke quotation. It really does seem so true. And helps me to lighten up whenever I get too fervent about what I am researching.
Thank you for this wonderful compilation of quotes. Many of them will be added to my enormous quotation journal.
“This? This is not ‘literary criticism’, dear Bev.” “It’s criticism of ‘literary criticism.'” “And I’ve placed my sentences in quotation marks to ease the copying into your enormous quotation journal.” “Which I aspire to madly.”
“I don’t deny now and then I resort to quotes.” “But I do so with a tinge of hesitation.” “I was watching a uTube video of Joey Campbell some time ago and he was talking about academics who haven’t got that air of authority, meaning truly ‘knowing’ what they’re talking about, and how they load their papers up with footnotes and references.” “I always feel a stab of guilt when quoting. It’s too easy, and it delays the development of one’s own voice.”
“And incidentally, I love hearing your voice, what you have to say. Whether a snippet from your own life or a challenge to me, it’s good and true and may one day, if nurtured, make it into someone’s fledgeling quotation journal too.”
Hah! Thank you Jeff. I do write and I write often, but “To a dusty shelf” is mainly focused on other people’s works and I prefer it that way. People have said such wonderful, profound things and I often do not want to underscore their sentiments with my own, skewed perspective and voice. There is something to be said for just offering it, laying it out there, and letting it (the words) speak for itself…
Go well,
Beverly Penn
Nah, I don’t agree. Their words flowered from their own ‘skewed perspective’; without us delving back through our’s we fail to tap into the commonality linking it all together.
We are them, and by resorting solely to quotes by others we do an injustice to ourselves and the future. I hope to have a post ready for later today, with cheesy blackboard graphic, containing every quote imaginable. I do my best writing after a Costco hotdog.