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Body Compass, Filippa Edghill
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Gustav Klimt - Fish Blood (1897-98)
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«La verità è fuoco e parlare di verità significa illuminare e bruciare»
Leopold Schefer
Ruth Asawa, Sculptor, and Her Children, 1957
[source]
One has to be audacious in one’s reading, so that it becomes an intense deciphering. We need not be afraid of wandering, though one should read in terms of a quest. There always has been femininity from time immemorial but it has been repressed. It has never been unnamed, only suppressed. But it constantly reappears everywhere. Of course, one finds more femininity in texts that are written “close to the savage heart,” in texts that are still close to sources, springs, to myth and to beginnings of literary movements before they become institutionalized. Literature is like history. It is organized so as to repress and hide its own origin which always deals with some kind of femininity.
Hélène Cixous, The Poetics of Blanchot, Joyce, Kafka, Kleist, Lispector, and Tsvetayeva (via nemophilies)
By the way, do you know the joys of being alone, walking alone, lying in the sun alone? Which doesn’t mean I have anything against doing things in twos, and not much against doing them in threes. But what a joy it is for the tormented, for heart and head! Do you know what I mean? Have you ever walked a long way by yourself? The ability to enjoy it presupposes a great deal of past misery as well as past joys. As a boy I was alone a lot, but it was more from force of circumstance, rarely from choice. Now, however, I rush toward being alone as rivers rush toward the sea.
Franz Kafka, Letters to Felice (via nemophilies)
The life that awaits you is not that of the happy couples you see strolling along before you in Westerland, no lighthearted chatter arm in arm, but a monastic life at the side of a man who is peevish, miserable, silent, discontented, and sickly; a man who, and this will seem to you akin to madness, is chained to invisible literature by invisible chains and screams when approached because, so he claims, someone is touching those chains.
Franz Kafka, Letters to Felice (via nemophilies)
some of my favourite absolutely SICK facts about the trappist-1 exoplanets: - theyre all very close to one another and to their star, so the length of a year on them varies from 1 to 20 DAYS - since they’re so close, the star appears a lot bigger than our sun from earth, and from one planet you could easily see the rest, some would even appear bigger than the moon from earth. you could literally see the surface of another planet with a naked eye!!! - they’re tidally locked to their star like our moon is locked to earth, meaning only one side of a planet ever faces the star, and on the other side it’s always night. the sun never sets or rises on any of the planets - the star is red, so the sunlight is red/orange, meaning if, for example, plants were to grow there, they could be black and that’s just what we know now, imagine how much cool stuff we have yet to discover about the trappist-1 system
Журнал Огонёк. Октябрь 1985 года.
Ogoniok magazine. October 1985.
In April 1970 Celan went from the bridge into the Seine River and though a strong swimmer, died unobserved. His last letter, to that childhood “orphaned” friend in Israel, had quoted Kafka about finding happiness “only if I can raise the world into the Pure, the True, the Immutable.” Celan was still making kindred spirits speak for him. A biography of Hölderlin was found on his desk, open to an underlined passage about the great poet’s last demented years: “Sometimes this genius goes dark and sinks down into the bitter well of his heart.” Yet Celan had not, I noticed…underlined the rest of that sentence in the Hölderlin biography. Though Celan did not underline it, I will close now by underlining it for him: “but mostly his apocalyptic star glitters wondrously.
John Felstiner from Translating as Transference: Paul Celan’s Versions of Shakespeare, Dickinson, Mandelshtam, Apollinaire (via anhelos)
Since it is at variance with the aims of our society [συμπαρανεκρώμενοι, the fellowship of the dead] to provide coherent works or larger unities, since it is not our intention to labor on a Tower of Babel that God in his righteousness can descend and destroy, since we, in our consciousness that such confusion justly occurred, acknowledge as characteristic of all human endeavor in its truth that it is fragmentary, that it is precisely this which distinguishes it from nature’s infinite coherence, that an individual’s wealth consists specifically in his capacity for fragmentary prodigality and what is the producing individual’s enjoyment is the receiving individual’s also, not the laborious and careful accomplishment or the tedious interpretation of this accomplishment but the production and the pleasure of the glinting transiency, which for the producer holds much more than the consummated accomplishment, since it is a glimpse of the idea and holds a bonus for the recipient, since its fulgeration [Fulgeration] stimulates his own productivity–since all this, I say, is at variance with our association’s inclination, indeed, since the periodic sentence just read must almost be regarded as a serious attack on the ejaculatory style in which the idea breaks forth without achieving a breakthrough, to which officiality is attached in our society–therefore, after having pointed out that my conduct still cannot be called mutinous, inasmuch as the bond that holds this periodic sentence together is so loose that the parenthetical clauses therein strut about aphoristically and willfully enough, I shall merely call to mind that my style has made an attempt to appear to be that what it is not: revolutionary.
Kierkegaard, “The Tragic in Ancient Drama,” Either/Or (via totempole)
From the Wikipedia page about the Fermi Paradox: Given the high scientific probability for alien existence, why can we find no evidence of their existence whatsoever?