Hölderlin went mad,
Rilke’s blood decayed,
I gave up youth
P. Klee- Senecio
Have you reckon’d a thousand acres much?
Have you reckon’d the earth much?
Have you practis’d so long to learn to read?
Have you felt so proud to get at the meaning of poems?
G. F. Watts – Happy Warrior
As you can seen, I wasn’t updating for a while, don’t know when I’ll come back, but I will, it’s just a break for now. Thanks for comming anyway.
And, according to what she was saying, her voice was clear, sharp, or, on a sudden all languor, drawn out in modulations that ended almost in murmurs as she spoke to herself, now joyous, opening big naive eyes, then with her eyelids half closed, her look full of boredom, her thoughts wandering.
…et, selon ce qu’elle disait, sa voix était claire, aiguë, ou se couvrant de langueur tout à coup, traînait des modulations qui finissaient presque en murmures, quand elle se parlait à elle- même, — tantôt joyeuse, ouvrant des yeux naïfs, puis les paupières à demi closes, le regard noyé d’ennui, la pensée vagabondant.
I, of whom I know nothing, I know my eyes are open, because of the tears that pour from them unceasingly.
‘But then, what is philosophy today – philosophical activity, I mean – if it is not the critical work of thought on itself? And if it does not consist in the endeavour of knowing how and to what extent it might be possible to think differently, rather than legitimating what is already known?