Literary Works... And Quotations!

[Odysseus]

"Nunez had an eye for all beautiful things, and it seemed to him that the glow upon the snow-fields and glaciers that rose about the valley on every side was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. His eyes went from that inaccessible glory to the village and irrigated fields, fast sinking into the twilight, and suddenly a wave of emotion took him, and he thanked God from the bottom of his heart that the power of sight had been given him."

This is a quotation from the best short story in the history of writing, from the story that has changed my way of thinking, from "The Country of the Blind".

[Odysseus]

Today I will quote from Sylvia Plath, poem about death. It is called 'EDGE'. This poem is about a lady who committed suicide. It may be beneficial if you know some facts about the poem: 1- It is Plath's last poem. 2- It was composed just a week before Plath herself committed suicide.

Edge
The woman is perfected.
Her dead
Body wears the smile of accomplishment,
The illusion of a Greek necessity
Flows in the scrolls of her toga,
Her bare
Feet seem to be saying:
We have come so far, it is over.
Each dead child coiled, a white serpent,
One at each little
Pitcher of milk, now empty.
She has folded
Them back into her body as petals
Of a rose close when the garden
Stiffens and odors bleed
From the sweet, deep throats of the night flower.
The moon has nothing to be sad about,
Staring from her hood of bone.
She is used to this sort of thing.
Her blacks crackle and drag.

NOTES:

The subject of this nice poem is a woman who had killed herself. Suicide is her last achievement, she is at peace. The moon, cruel and unfeeling under her hood of bone, looks at her dispassionately, wearing black clouds like mourning.

The illusion of a Greek necessity : To the Greeks suicide was not blameworthy, but sometimes the only honourable solution.
Each dead child coild : The memories of her children had gone with her.
Pitcher of milk: in some cultures a saucer of milk is left out at night for the house snake, but the reader may remember also that plath put out milk for her children before she killed herself.

The notes are taken verbatim from "Sylvia Plath: Selected Works".

[Odysseus]

Tell me where is fancy bred,
Or in the heart,or in the head?
How begot, how nourished?
 Reply, reply.

William Shakespeare, The Merchant

[Nawal8q]

Dear fatal name! rest ever unreveal'd,
Nor pass these lips in holy silence seal'd.
Hide it, my heart, within that close disguise,
Where mix'd with God's, his lov'd idea lies:
O write it not, my hand — the name appears
Already written — wash it out, my tears!
In vain lost Eloisa weeps and prays,
Her heart still dictates, and her hand obeys.

Alexander Pope, Eloisa to Abelard

[Nawal8q]

Soon as thy letters trembling I unclose,
That well-known name awakens all my woes.
Oh name for ever sad! for ever dear!
Still breath'd in sighs, still usher'd with a tear.
I tremble too, where'er my own I find,
Some dire misfortune follows close behind.
Line after line my gushing eyes o'erflow,
Led through a sad variety of woe:
Now warm in love, now with'ring in thy bloom,
Lost in a convent's solitary gloom!
There stern religion quench'd th' unwilling flame,
There died the best of passions, love and fame.

Alexander Pope, Eloisa to Abelard

[Nawal8q]

Yet write, oh write me all, that I may join
Griefs to thy griefs, and echo sighs to thine.
Nor foes nor fortune take this pow'r away;
And is my Abelard less kind than they?
Tears still are mine, and those I need not spare,
Love but demands what else were shed in pray'r;
No happier task these faded eyes pursue;
To read and weep is all they now can do.

Alexander Pope, Eloisa to Abelard

[Nawal8q]

Thou know'st how guiltless first I met thy flame,
When Love approach'd me under Friendship's name;
My fancy form'd thee of angelic kind,
Some emanation of th' all-beauteous Mind.
Those smiling eyes, attemp'ring ev'ry day,
Shone sweetly lambent with celestial day.
Guiltless I gaz'd; heav'n listen'd while you sung;
And truths divine came mended from that tongue.
From lips like those what precept fail'd to move?
Too soon they taught me 'twas no sin to love.
Back through the paths of pleasing sense I ran,
Nor wish'd an Angel whom I lov'd a Man.
Dim and remote the joys of saints I see;
Nor envy them, that heav'n I lose for thee.

Alexander Pope, Eloisa to Abelard

[Nawal8q]

Yet here for ever, ever must I stay;
Sad proof how well a lover can obey!
Death, only death, can break the lasting chain;
And here, ev'n then, shall my cold dust remain,
Here all its frailties, all its flames resign,
And wait till 'tis no sin to mix with thine.

Alexander Pope, Eloisa to Abelard

[Nawal8q]

Ev'n here, where frozen chastity retires,
Love finds an altar for forbidden fires.
I ought to grieve, but cannot what I ought;
I mourn the lover, not lament the fault;
I view my crime, but kindle at the view,
Repent old pleasures, and solicit new;
Now turn'd to Heav'n, I weep my past offence,
Now think of thee, and curse my innocence

Alexander Pope, Eloisa to Abelard

[Nawal8q]

Come, Abelard! for what hast thou to dread?
The torch of Venus burns not for the dead.
Nature stands check'd; Religion disapproves;
Ev'n thou art cold — yet Eloisa loves.
Ah hopeless, lasting flames! like those that burn
To light the dead, and warm th' unfruitful urn.

Alexander Pope, Eloisa to Abelard