[lit-ideas] on : sigismundo and Hoffmanstahl

From: Adriano Palma <Palma@xxxxxxxxxx>
To: "lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx" <lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
Date: Sun, 1 Feb 2015 13:51:30 +0000
For a chance, thank you M. Lawrence, someone who understands something. I 
confess a severe fondness for 'life is dream' and the very idea reminiscent of 
the classics of the chosen captivity of someone who sees, darkly, what the 
silly freedom of the moderns is about...

'hoep you have a good Sunday, dogs and rivers, me in sweltering humidity of the 
subtropics


From: lit-ideas-bounce@xxxxxxxxxxxxx [mailto:lit-ideas-bounce@xxxxxxxxxxxxx] On 
Behalf Of Lawrence Helm
Sent: 01 February 2015 15:48
To: lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
Subject: [lit-ideas] Re: sigismundo and Hoffmanstahl

Adriano

In regard to Sigismundo . . . the idea that I might have wrought devastation if 
I had applied myself to the military or politics is interesting, probably safer 
to have left me in my (tower) library.  :)

Hoffmanstahl's melancholy might be close to the mark, but only temporarily.  A 
friend has noticed that my writing tends to lose its melancholy flavor when 
Spring arrives.

Lawrence



From: lit-ideas-bounce@xxxxxxxxxxxxx<mailto:lit-ideas-bounce@xxxxxxxxxxxxx> 
[mailto:lit-ideas-bounce@xxxxxxxxxxxxx] On Behalf Of Adriano Palma
Sent: Sunday, February 01, 2015 12:01 AM
To: lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx<mailto:lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
Subject: [lit-ideas] sig

Dear Lawrence, you may want to consider sigismundo on not being in the tower 
and not being freed from captivity, but also the Trauerspiel by HvH


best

From: lit-ideas-bounce@xxxxxxxxxxxxx<mailto:lit-ideas-bounce@xxxxxxxxxxxxx> 
[mailto:lit-ideas-bounce@xxxxxxxxxxxxx] On Behalf Of Lawrence Helm
Sent: 31 January 2015 18:22
To: Lit-Ideas
Subject: [lit-ideas] Pushing Mute



            This dream of reality eludes
            If we are fair. We measure
            Ourselves against each other's
            Awareness then rear up
            And howl that we know
            All that there is and will
            Be; yet when we are old

            With hubris hidden away
            Like something forgotten
            In the pocket of a coat
            We feel a knobby nudge,
            The catch in the throat,
            The blinking of our eyes
            At the passing image that

            Is nothing at all.  What then
            At such a day's end?  Shall we
            Hunker down, watch and wait?
            If so, what of the man who raised himself
            So long ago and sought to know it all?
            He is down the hall at his desk tinkering
            With a few words before his morning nap.

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[lit-ideas] on : sigismundo and Hoffmanstahl

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