“These are well-marked paths, and, without neglecting them, I have preferred to make a different journey. It matters to me, in closing, that it should be agreed that the route was a sound one.”
— Nicole Loraux, Tragic Ways of Killing a Woman, ch. 3 (tr. Anthony Forster; p. 64 in ISBN 0-674-90226-2)
“However, once one immerses oneself in the medical thought of the Greeks, or joins up, bag and baggage, with psychoanalysis, one can find no way of rejoining the tragic universe.”
— Nicole Loraux, Tragic Ways of Killing a Woman, ch. 3 (tr. Anthony Forster; p. 61 in ISBN 0-674-90226-2)

Q

closetpoesie asked:

Best wishes for oral exams this week! Do it!

A

Thanks!

I’ve got 90 minutes to talk. Let my committee ask questions if they can. (=

“It had come into her mind that for life to be large and full, it must contain the care of the past and of the future in every passing moment of the present. Our daily work must be done to the glory of the dead, and for the good of those who come after. She thought that, and sighed without opening her eyes—without moving at all.”
— Joseph Conrad, Nostromo, Part Third, ch. XI (p. 373 in ISBN 978-0-19-955591-8).
“"Yes, but the material interests will not let you jeopardise their development for a mere idea of pity and justice," the doctor muttered grumpily.”
— Joseph Conrad, Nostromo, Part Third, ch. XI (p. 365 in ISBN 978-0-19-955591-8).
“The brilliant “Son Decoud,” the spoiled darling of the family, the lover of Antonia and journalist of Sulaco, was not fit to grapple with himself single-handed. Solitude from mere outward condition of existence because very swiftly a state of soul in which the affectations of irony and sceptism have no place. It takes possession of the mind, and drives forth the thought into the exile of utter unbelief. After three days of waiting for the sight of some human face, Decoud caught himself entertaining a doubt of his own individuality. It had merged into the world of cloud and water, of natural forces and forms of nature. In our activity alone do we find the sustaining illusion of independent existence as against the whole scheme of things of which we form a helpless part. Decoud lost all belief in the reality of his action past and to come.”
— Joseph Conrad, Nostromo, Part Third, ch. X (pp. 356-57 in ISBN 978-0-19-955591-8).
“We in this country know just about enough to keep indoors when it rains. We can sit and watch. Of course, some day we shall step in. We are bound to. But there’s no hurry. Time itself has got to wait on the greatest country in the whole of God’s universe. We shall be giving the word for everything; industry, trade, law, journalism, art, politics, and religion, from Cape Horn clear over to Smith’s Sound, and beyond, too, if anything worth taking hold of turns up at the North Pole. And then we shall have the leisure to take in hand the outlying islands and continents of the earth. We shall run the world’s business whether the world like it or not. The world can’t help it—and neither can we, I guess.”
— Joseph Conrad, Nostromo, Part First, ch. VI (p. 58 in ISBN 978-0-19-955591-8).
“Action is consolatory. It is the enemy of thought and the friend of flattering illusions. Only in the conduct of our action can we find the sense of mastery over the Fates.”
— Joseph Conrad, Nostromo, Part First, ch. VI (p. 50 in ISBN 978-0-19-955591-8).
“Love loves to love love. Nurse loves the new chemist. Constable 14A loves Mary Kelly. Gerty MacDowell loves the boy that has the bicycle. M.B. loves a fair gentleman. Li Chi Han lovey up kissy Cha Pu Chow. Jumbo, the elephant, loves Alice, the elephant. Old Mr Verschoyle with the ear trumpet loves old Mrs Verschoyle with the turnedin eye. The man in the brown macintosh loves a lady who is dead. His Majesty the King loves Her Majesty the Queen. Mrs. Norman W. Tupper loves officer Taylor. You love a certain person. And this person loves that other person because everybody loves somebody but God loves everybody.”
— James Joyce’s Ulysses, ch. 12, lines 1499-1501 (p. 273 in the Gabler Edition, ISBN 978-0-679-73373-7)

The figure seated on a large boulder at the foot of a round tower was that of a broadshouldered deepchested stronglimbed frankeyed redhaired freelyfreckled shaggybearded widemouthed largenosed longheaded deepvoiced barekneed brawnyhanded hairylegged ruddyfaced sinewyarmed hero. From shoulder to shoulder he measured several ells and his rocklike mountainous knees were covered, as was likewise the rest of his body wherever visible, with a strong growth of tawny prickly hair in huge and toughness similar to the mountain gorse (Ulex Europeus). The widewinged nostrils, from which bristles of the same tawny hue projected, were of such capaciousness that within their cavernous obscurity the fieldlark might easily have lodged her nest. The eyes in which a tear and a smile strove ever for the mastery were of the dimensions of a goodsized cauliflower. A powerful current of warm breath issued at regular intervals from the profound cavity of his mouth while in rhythmic resonance the loud strong hale reverberations of his formidable heart thundered rumblingly causing the ground, the summit of the lofty tower and the still loftier walls of the cave to vibrate and tremble.

     — James Joyce’s description of The Citizen in Ulysses, ch. 12, lines 151-67 (p. 243 in the Gabler Edition, ISBN 978-0-679-73373-7)

I agreed with them about Nixon’s stupidity. It did not surprise me to learn that he had made a remark that violated the ethics and principles of the legal profession. Nixon is a man who should never stray from his speech writer’s notes, because every time he does, eh sticks his foot in his mouth.

— Huey P. Newton, Revolutionary Suicide (p. 296 in ISBN 978-0-679-73373-7)

Obviously the [prison] guards are victims, too, but the fact that they have a limited and very crude kind of power tends to corrupt and brutalize them. Some of them perceive dimly how blighted their lives are and try to compensate in pathetic ways. For instance, when the student disturbances broke out at the University of California at Santa Barbara in the spring of 1970, the [Men’s] Penal Colony [in San Luis Obispo] dispatched members of the “goon squad” to assist in putting down the rebellion. When the guards returned, they were full of tales about how they had jailed professors and smart rich kids. This made them feel important, bigger than real life, and when they were not talking about revolutionaries as if they were dogs, they boasted about the fine motels they had stayed in while beating up members of the university community and the opulent meals they had eaten in “Sambo’s" restaurant. In lives so empty and bereft of meaning, events like this were highlights.

     — Huey P. Newton, Revolutionary Suicide (pp. 279-80 in ISBN 978-0-679-73373-7)

When we read the police report of the incident, we rejected it and continued our own investigation, always carrying our weapons in full view. Together with the Dowells we visited the spot where the murder allegedly took place and checked every possible detail. From my study of police methods in college, I came up with a number of inconsistencies in the official report. For example, the police claimed that Denzil [Dowell] had jumped one fence and was about to jump another when he was shot; but Denzil had a hip injury from an automobile accident and could hardly have run, let along jump fences. The lot he supposedly ran across was an automobile junkyard full of garbage and oil, yet no oil was found on his shoes. The police said that he bled to death after being shot, but no pool of blood was noted at the site, or anywhere else. We also learned that Denzil’s brother and friends had found him lying all alone. After shooting him, the police had made no effort to summon medical aid or to save his life. All this was particularly significant and disturbing in the ligh tof the fact that Denzil was known to the police, and they had threatened to get him on a number of occasions. in the dark, far from witnesses, they carried out their murderous treachery.

The same thing happened to Little Bobby Hutton, to Fred Hampton and Mark Clark in Chicago, to the students in the Orangeburg and Jackson State massacres in the South. It has happened to many thousands of unknown Blacks throughout the history of this country, poor and powerless victims, whose families were too terrorized or weak to cry out against their oppressors. The police murder us outright and call it justifiable homicide. They always cook up a story, but simple investigation will expose their lies. That is why we must disarm and control the police in our communities if we want to survive.

— Huey P. Newton, Revolutionary Suicide (pp. 147-48 in ISBN 978-0-679-73373-7)

“We call love what binds us to certain creatures only by reference to a collective way of seeing for which books and legends are responsible. But of love I know only that mixture of desire, affection, and intelligence that binds me to this or that creature. That compound is not the same for another person. I do not have the right to cover all these experiences with the same name. This exempts one from conducting them with the same gestures.”
— Albert Camus, The Myth of Sisyphus (tr. Justin O’Brien: p. 73 in ISBN 978-0-679-73373-7)