February 2012
21 posts
The Petrarch in my mind asks:
“Qual grazia, qual amore, o qual destino mi darà penne in guisa di colomba, ch’i’ mi riposi, e levimi da terra?”
Oh that’s an easy one. You, my Ruph, you and only you.
January 2012
81 posts
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Then what’s rarest in our age appears to our minds, Simplicity: all art dispelled by the god.
Ovid, “Ars Amatoria”
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The man who professes, not only by words but by actions, the doctrines of truth and love, will not deceive himself as to the object of his life. Never would the man whose idea of existence is to serve others imagine that he can help those who are dying of cold and hunger by making new laws, by casting cannon, working on objects of luxury, or by playing the piano or violin. Love cannot be so...
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Wealth is but slavery; it has the same object and like results. Its object is to free man from the primordial law, according to the expression of a popular writer [Bondareff], or the natural law of life as we call it. This law prescribes to each of us personal labor as the means of existence.
Lyof Tolstoï, “What is my life”
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I came to love my rows, my beans…They attached me to the earth, and so I got strength like Antæus. But why should I raise them? Only Heaven knows. This was my curious labor all summer — to make this portion of the earth’s surface, which had yielded only cinquefoil, blackberries, johnswort, and the like, before, sweet wild fruits and pleasant flowers, produce instead this pulse. What shall I...
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Never shall I enjoy love unless I enjoy this faraway love, since I don’t know of a better and worthier one anywhere, near or far away. So abundant and sovereign her merits are that down there, in the Saracen’s realm, I wish I were held in thrall for her sake.
Jaufre Rudel (an. translated), by 1140
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My lords, if you would hear a high tale of love and of death, here is that of Tristan and Queen Iseult; how to their full joy, but to their sorrow also, they loved each other, and how at last they died of that love together upon one day; she by him and he by her…
Joseph Bédier’s “Tristan and Iseult” (1900)
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Si c’est aimer, Madame, et de jour et de nuit Rêver, songer, penser le moyen de vous plaire, Oublier toute chose, et ne vouloir rien faire Qu’adorer et servir la beauté qui me nuit; […] Si cela c’est aimer, furieux je vous aime. Je vous aime, et sais bien que mon mal est fatal. Le cœur le dit assez, mais la langue est muette.
Pierre de Ronsard, “Madrigal”
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Mais éprouvant un trait d’œil, sa douceur Si vivement me vint toucher au cœur, Que, pensant vaincre, enfin je fus vaincu.
Pontus de Tyard (1521-1605)
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J’ai le cœur si plein de joie Qu’il transmue Nature; Le gel me semble fleur blanche, Vermeille et dorée. Avec le vent et la pluie Mon bonheur s’accroît: C’est pourquoi mon Prix s’exalte Et mon chant s’épure. J’ai tant d’amour au cœur, De joie et de douceur Que frimas est une fleur Et neige, verdure.
Bernard de Ventadour (vers 1170)
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Tel je fus comme tu es, et tel que je suis tu seras. Richesse, honneur et pouvoir sont dépourvus de valeur au moment de votre trépas.
“Le dit des trois vifs et des trois morts”, 13th century
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