Ἐρωτικὰ IV | Κώστας Ουράνης, 1890 -1953

Theodoros Stamos, White Sun-Box, 1966 

Δεν είμαι εγώ που τη ζωή σου
ήρθα σαν ήλιος να φωτίσω:
το φως στα μάτια μου
που λάμπει δικό σου
-και σ᾿το στέλνω πίσω!

Τοῦ μαγικοῦ τοῦ κόσμου
ἂν ἔχω ἀνοίξει διάπλατη τη θύρα,
το μυστικό χρυσό κλειδί της
ἀπο το χέρι σου το πῆρα.

Κι ἂν ἀπ᾿ τα βάθη ενός ληθάργου
βγῆκα, σ᾿ ἐσένα το χρωστάω,
σ᾿ ἐσένα τους χυμούς που νοιώθω,
τη νέα γλῶσσα που μιλάω!


 Κώστας Οὐράνης 1890 -1953


Alphabetarion # Marriage | Javier Marias, 1992

Louise Bourgeois, Couple I, 1996

 “People only get married when they've no other option, out of panic or desperation 
or so as not to lose someone they couldn't bear to lose. It's always the most 
conventional things that contain the largest measure of madness.”

 Javier Marias, A Heart So White, 1992

Book//mark - Analects | Confucius, c 551-479 BC

Confucius, A page from the Analects


“Study the past if you would define the future.”

“Respect yourself and others will respect you.”

“Real knowledge is to know the extent of one's ignorance.”

“To be wealthy and honored in an unjust society is a disgrace.”

“Better a diamond with a flaw than a pebble without.”

“Forget injuries, never forget kindnesses.”

“Have no friends not equal to yourself.”

“If you are the smartest person in the room, then you are in the wrong room.”

“What the superior man seeks is in himself; what the small man seeks is in others.”

“Attack the evil that is within yourself, rather than attacking the evil that is in others.”

“Never give a sword to a man who can't dance.”

“He who conquers himself is the mightiest warrior.”

“The man who moves a mountain begins by carrying away small stones.”

“Without knowing the force of words, it is impossible to know more.”

“Worry not that no one knows you; seek to be worth knowing.”

“Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves.”

“Where words lose their meaning, people lose their lives.”

“To be wronged is nothing, unless you continue to remember it.”

“Your life is what your thoughts make it.”

“We have two lives, and the second begins when we realize we only have one.”

“Roads were made for journeys not destinations”

“Time flows away like the water in the river. ”

“When the wind blows, the grass bends.”


Confucius, c 551-479 BC

Flick Review < Darling | John Schlesinger, 1965





 Darling, 1965
Director: John Schlesinger
Writers: Frederic Raphael (screenplay)
Cinematography: Kenneth Higgins
Stars: Julie Christie, Dirk Bogarde, Laurence Harvey
Music: John Dankworth

Julie Christie, Laurence Harvey, and John Schlesinger in Darling (1965)
Julie Christie and Dirk Bogarde on the set of Darling, 1965


Also:

Alphabetarion # Equality | Alexis de Tocqueville, 1835

Jovcho Savov, Aegean Guernica, 2015 

“The happy and powerful do not go into exile, and there are no surer 
guarantees of equality among men than poverty and misfortune.”

 Alexis de Tocqueville, Democracy in America, 1835

Circus | Photos by Bruce Davidson, 1958

Bruce Davidson, Jimmy Armstrong, 'The Dwarf', Palisades, New Jersey, 1958
Bruce Davidson, Jimmy Armstrong, 'The Dwarf', Palisades, New Jersey, 1958
Bruce Davidson, Jimmy Armstrong, 'The Dwarf', Palisades, New Jersey, 1958
Bruce Davidson, Clown frowning at young boy in the crowd, from Clyde Beatty Circus, New York, 1958

"I found something in Jimmy that was more than 
loneliness, it was a story about surviving"

Bruce Davidson

Bruce Davidson, Jimmy Armstrong, 'The Dwarf', Palisades, New Jersey, 1958

"He seemed to know that it was the inner moment I was drawn to
 and not his clown face or physical appearance"

 Bruce Davidson

Bruce Davidson, Beatty-Cole-Hamid Circus at Palisades Amusement Park, New Jersey, 1958
Bruce Davidson, Beatty-Cole-Hamid Circus at Palisades Amusement Park,  New Jersey, 1958
Bruce Davidson, Beatty-Cole-Hamid Circus at Palisades Amusement Park, New Jersey, 1958
Bruce Davidson, Beatty-Cole-Hamid Circus at Palisades Amusement Park, New Jersey, 1958


Also:


The Murder of Two Men by a Young Kid Wearing Lemon Colored Gloves | Kenneth Patchen, 1943




Wait. 


                                                 Wait. 



                                        Wait. 



                        Wait. Wait. 



                Wait. 



                                                          Wait.   



                                  W a i t. 



                        Wait. 



                                              Wait. 



                                                               Wait.   



                                    Wait. 



                                                          Wait. 



                   Wait. 




                                    NOW.





Booker Ervin - Kenneth Patchen, 1959


Also:



Frame Inside | The Wedding Feast at Cana | Paolo Veronese, 1563 / John Gutmann, 1957

 John Gutmann, Children in the Louvre, Paris, 1957



Alphabetarion # Leap | John Updike, 1932-2009

Max Ernst, Two Children are Threatened by a Nightingale, 1924 

 “Children are not a zoo of entertainingly exotic creatures, but an array 
of mirrors in which the human predicament leaps out at us. ”

John Updike, 1932-2009

The Ocean | Nathaniel Hawthorne, 1825

Joaquin Sorolla, Seascape, 1904

 The Ocean has its silent caves,
Deep, quiet, and alone;
Though there be fury on the waves,
Beneath them there is none.

The awful spirits of the deep
Hold their communion there;
And there are those for whom we weep,
The young, the bright, the fair.

Calmly the wearied seamen rest
Beneath their own blue sea.
The ocean solitudes are blest,
For there is purity.

The earth has guilt, the earth has care,
Unquiet are its graves;
But peaceful sleep is ever there,
Beneath the dark blue waves.

Nathaniel Hawthorne,  The Ocean, 1825

*
Nathaniel Hawthorne wrote “The Ocean” in 1825 at the age of 21. His father, 
a sea captain, died at sea when Nathaniel was only 4 years old.


Also:

Book//mark - Monsieur De Phocas | Jean Lorrain, 1901

Jean Lorrain, 1855-1906                                                    Jean Lorrain, Monsieur De Phocas, 1901


“The madness of the eyes is the lure of the abyss. Sirens lurk in the dark depths of the pupils
 as they lurk at the bottom of the sea, that I know for sure - but I have never encountered 
them, and I am searching still for the profound and plaintive gazes in whose depths 
I might be able, like Hamlet redeemed, to drown the Ophelia of my desire.”


“Masks! I see them everywhere. That dreadful vision of the other night - the deserted town
 with its masked corpses in every doorway; that nightmare product of morphine and ether -
 has taken up residence within me. I see masks in the street, I see them on stage in the theatre,
 I find yet more of them in the boxes. They are on the balcony and in the orchestra-pit. 
Everywhere I go I am surrounded by masks. The attendants to whom I give my overcoat 
are masked; masks crowd around me in the foyer as everyone leaves, and the coachman 
who drives me home has the same cardboard grimace fixed upon his face!

It is truly too much to bear: to feel that one is alone and at the mercy of all those enigmatic 
and deceptive faces, alone amid all the mocking laughs and the threats embodied in those 
masks. I have tried to persuade myself that I am dreaming, and that I am the victim of a 
hallucination, but all the powdered and painted faces of women, all the rouged lips and 
kohl-blackened eyelids... all of that has created around me an atmosphere of trance and
 mortal agony. Cosmetics: there is the root cause of my illness!

But I am happy, now, when there are only masks! Sometimes, I detect the cadavers 
beneath, and remember that beneath the masks there is a host of spectres.”

“Ingratitude' is the name which avatars of 
Narcissus give to the success of others.”

“...the presence of others has become even more intolerable to me, their conversation most 
of all. Oh, how it all annoys and exasperates me: their attitudes, their manners, their whole 
way of being! The people of my world, all my unhappy peers, have come to irritate, oppress 
and sadden me with their noisy and empty chatter, their monstrous and boundless vanity,
their even more monstrous egotism, their club gossip... the endless repetition of opinions 
already formed and judgments already made; the automatic vomiting forth of articles read 
in those morning papers which are the recognised outlet of the hopeless wilderness of their 
ideas; the eternal daily meal of overfamiliar cliches concerning racing stables and the stalls 
of fillies of the human variety... the hutches of the 'petites femmes' - another worn out phrase
 in the dirty usury of shapeless expression!

Oh my contemporaries, my dear contemporaries...

Their idiotic self-satisfaction; their fat and full-blown self-sufficiency: the stupid display of
 their good fortune; the clink of fifty- and a hundred-franc coins forever sounding out their 
financial prowess, according their own reckoning; their hen-like clucking and their pig-like
 grunting, as they pronounce the names of certain women; the obesity of their minds, the 
obscenity of their eyes, and the toneless-ness of their laughter! They are, in truth, handsome 
puppets of amour, with all the exhausted despondency of their gestures and the slackness 
of their chic...

Chic! A hideous word, which fits their manner like a new glove: as dejected as 
undertakers' mutes, as full-blown as Falstaff...

Oh my contemporaries: the ceusses of my circle, to put it in their own ignoble argot. They
 have all welcomed the moneylenders into their homes, and have been recruited as their 
clients, and they have likewise played host to the fat journalists who milk their
 conversations for the society columns. How I hate them; how I execrate them; 
how I would love to devour them liver and lights - and how well I understand the 
Anarchists and their bombs!”


“There is nothing to be found in human eyes, and that is their terrifying and dolorous 
enigma, their abominable and delusive charm. There is nothing but that which we put 
there ourselves. That is why honest gazes are only to be found in portraits.

The faded and weary eyes of martyrs, expressions tortured by ecstasy, imploring and 
suffering eyes, some resigned, others desperate... the gazes of saints, mendicants and
 princesses in exile, with pardoning smiles... the gazes of the possessed, the chosen and 
the hysterical... and sometimes of little girls, the eyes of Ophelia and Canidia, the eyes of 
virgins and witches... as you live in the museums, what eternal life, dolorous and intense, 
shines out of you! Like precious stones enshrined between the painted eyelids of 
masterpieces, you disturb us across time and across space, receivers of the
 dream which created you!

You have souls, but they are those of the artists who wished you into being, and I am 
delivered to despair and mortification because I have drunk the draught of poison 
congealed in the irises of your eyes.

The eyes of portraits ought to be plucked out.”


“8 April 1891
The obscenity of nostrils and mouths; the ignominious cupidity of smiles and women 
encountered in the street; the shifty baseness on every side, as of hyenas and wild beasts 
ready to bite: tradesmen in their shops and strollers on their pavements. How long must
 I suffer this? I have suffered it before, as a child, when, descending by chance to the 
servant's quarters, I overheard in astonishment their vile gossip, tearing up my own 
kind with their lovely teeth.

This hostility to the entire race, this muted detestation of lynxes in human form, I must 
have rediscovered it later while at school. I had a repugnance and horror for all base 
instincts, but am I not myself instinctively violent and lewd, murderous and sensual? 
Am I any different, in essence, from the members of the riotous and murderous mob of a
 hundred years ago, who hurled the town sergeants into the Seine and cried, 'String up 
the aristos!' just as they shout 'Down with the army!' or 'Death to the Jews!”

“The beauty of the twentieth century is the charm of the hospital, the grace of the 
cemetery, of consumption and emaciation. I admit that I have submitted to it 
all; worse, I have loved with all my heart.”

“To dream! Such dreams certainly make life more worth living...
 and only dreams can do that for me.”

    Jean Lorrain, Monsieur De Phocas, 1901

   Jean Lorrain, Monsieur De Phocas, 1908


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