What do you think?
Rate this book
Zibaldone
A groundbreaking translation of the epic work of one of the great minds of the nineteenth century
Giacomo Leopardi was the greatest Italian poet of the nineteenth century and was recognized by readers from Nietzsche to Beckett as one of the towering literary figures in Italian history. To many, he is the finest Italian poet after Dante. (Jonathan Galassi’s translation of Leopardi’s Canti was published by FSG in 2010.)
He was also a prodigious scholar of classical literature and philosophy, and a voracious reader in numerous ancient and modern languages. For most of his writing career, he kept an immense notebook, known as the Zibaldone, or “hodge-podge,” as Harold Bloom has called it, in which Leopardi put down his original, wide-ranging, radically modern responses to his reading. His comments about religion, philosophy, language, history, anthropology, astronomy, literature, poetry, and love are unprecedented in their brilliance and suggestiveness, and the Zibaldone, which was only published at the turn of the twentieth century, has been recognized as one of the foundational books of modern culture. Its 4,500-plus pages have never been fully translated into English until now, when a team under the auspices of Michael Caesar and Franco D’Intino of the Leopardi Centre in Birmingham, England, have spent years producing a lively, accurate version. This essential book will change our understanding of nineteenth-century culture. This is an extraordinary, epochal publication.
Giacomo Leopardi was the greatest Italian poet of the nineteenth century and was recognized by readers from Nietzsche to Beckett as one of the towering literary figures in Italian history. To many, he is the finest Italian poet after Dante. (Jonathan Galassi’s translation of Leopardi’s Canti was published by FSG in 2010.)
He was also a prodigious scholar of classical literature and philosophy, and a voracious reader in numerous ancient and modern languages. For most of his writing career, he kept an immense notebook, known as the Zibaldone, or “hodge-podge,” as Harold Bloom has called it, in which Leopardi put down his original, wide-ranging, radically modern responses to his reading. His comments about religion, philosophy, language, history, anthropology, astronomy, literature, poetry, and love are unprecedented in their brilliance and suggestiveness, and the Zibaldone, which was only published at the turn of the twentieth century, has been recognized as one of the foundational books of modern culture. Its 4,500-plus pages have never been fully translated into English until now, when a team under the auspices of Michael Caesar and Franco D’Intino of the Leopardi Centre in Birmingham, England, have spent years producing a lively, accurate version. This essential book will change our understanding of nineteenth-century culture. This is an extraordinary, epochal publication.
3390 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 1898
155 people are currently reading
3429 people want to read
About the author
Giacomo Leopardi
643 books524 followersItalian scholar, poet, essayist and philosopher, one of the great writers of the 19th century.
Leopardi's love problems inspired some of his saddest lyrics. Despite having lived in a small town, Leopardi was in touch with the main ideas of the Enlightenment movement. His literary evolution turned him into one of the well known Romantic poets.
In his late years, when he lived in an ambiguous relationship with his friend Antonio Ranieri on the slopes of Vesuvius, Leopardi meditated upon the possibility of the total destruction of humankind.
Leopardi was a contemporary of the German philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer, with whom he shared a similarly pessimistic view of life. The latter praised Leopardi's philosophical thoughts on The World as Will and Representation.
Leopardi's love problems inspired some of his saddest lyrics. Despite having lived in a small town, Leopardi was in touch with the main ideas of the Enlightenment movement. His literary evolution turned him into one of the well known Romantic poets.
In his late years, when he lived in an ambiguous relationship with his friend Antonio Ranieri on the slopes of Vesuvius, Leopardi meditated upon the possibility of the total destruction of humankind.
Leopardi was a contemporary of the German philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer, with whom he shared a similarly pessimistic view of life. The latter praised Leopardi's philosophical thoughts on The World as Will and Representation.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 29 of 29 reviews
Want to read
September 15, 2015Ahhhh crap.. I just bought this 2592-page somnabitch, brand spankin' new hardcover, for upwards of like 50 USA American buckskins $$$. With another possible Cruz-infused gubment shutdown looming at the end of this month/fiscal year? And thus the involuntary furloughing of my job and unwilling sacrifice of my salary to his monomaniac campaign fund? Irresponsible managing of my budget, yessir! It almost makes a man want to find an escape from this cold cruel world of careerist money-dominance and labor alienation into some long ago complex cosmos intellectual monastery of the mind, a retreat into the nightworld of words and shadowthoughts such as what's in this Zibaldone right here... I made the right choice!
May 9, 2019
Gracian also brings before our eyes the misery of our existence in the darkest colours . . . But no one has treated this subject so thoroughly and exhaustively as Leopardi . . . He is entirely imbued and penetrated with it; everywhere his theme is the mockery and wretchedness of this existence. He presents it on every page of his works, yet in such a multiplicity of forms and applications, with such a wealth of imagery, that he never wearies us, but, on the contrary, has a diverting and stimulating effect. —Schopenhauer, The World as Will and Representation, Vol. II, Ch. XLVI
I do not presume to give instruction with this book, I would like only to give delight. (Z4484)
__________
Two truths that men will generally never believe: one, that we know nothing, the other, that we are nothing. Add the third, which depends a lot on the second: that there is nothing to hope for after death. (Z4525)
Man (and likewise the other animals) is not born to enjoy life, but only to perpetuate life, to communicate it to others who come after him, in order to preserve it. Neither he himself, nor life, nor anything in this world is properly for him, on the contrary his entire being is for life. —A terrifying, but a true proposition and conclusion of all metaphysics. Existence is not for the existent being, does not have for its end the existent being, nor the good of the existent being; if there is any experience of good, that is purely by chance: the existent being is for existence, entirely for existence, this is its only real end. Existent beings exist so that existence exists, the individual existent being is born and exists so that existence continues and so that existence may be preserved through him and after him. All this is clear from seeing that the true and only end of nature is the preservation of the species, and not the preservation or the happiness of individuals; which happiness does not even exist at all in the world, not for individuals nor for the species. On the basis of this we have necessarily to drive at the general, summary, supreme, and terrifying conclusion mentioned above. (Z4169)
__________
Shortly after I joined Goodreads, I began inserting a quote (or three) at the start of my reviews. I did so, I believe, because I first saw another reader do this, and I enjoyed reading the author's own thoughts as opposed to someone's interpretation (although I do sometimes include a quote from the introduction, or from someone other than the author of a given work to give some context etc.) I agree completely with Montaigne
I care not so much . . . in another's judgement, as I care . . . in my own. (II. XVI)Of course, I enjoy reading people's opinions and feelings about works they have read, but I have not read a single work purely on the basis of what someone else thought about it; only by forming my own opinion about the work's merit, and the only way to do this is first-hand, by reading the author's own words. I have continued this practice since I first began; books are read, and reviews composed, always beginning with a quote (or five); I try to choose something which gets at the quintessence of the author and the work in question, or presents a particularly novel or original thought of the author, or, in the case of poetical works, simply some of my favourite lines. Often, choosing these quotes does not take a great deal of time; other times I labour over the choice for a good hour. With Leopardi's Zibaldone, I'm at a loss: the fact that the work begins with thirteen different introductory essays gives an indication of the type of work this is; thought after thought after thought after thought after
etc. etc. etc. etc. etc. (Z1532-1533)for more than 4000 handwritten pages . . .
Shortly after joining Goodreads, I also began to mark any passages I found particularly interesting or worthy of note in the books I was reading, and then typing these into Evernote on my phone (or into the same application on my laptop for longer passages) so that I could peruse and have access to this library of quotes at my fingertips. My Evernote file for the Zibaldone is the longest note for a book I have read thus far: 43,657 words, 254,244 characters (this is coming from someone who would say he is objectively very selective). Anticipating a problem, I began to copy and paste quotes I thought I might like to include at the start of my "review" at the top of the note, but even this pruning began to grow out of hand . . .
__________
I had never heard of Leopardi, and I came across the Zibaldone after seeing the large, bold "Z" adorning the American edition. But I was also introduced to him via Schopenhauer in the quote above. I cannot remember if this quote was included in the volume of Schopenhauer's essays which I read (google tells me it was not) but I think coming across this quote from someone who I very strongly identified with really cemented my decision to read this book.
And boy am I glad I did.
Leopardi not only gets at the truth, suggesting novel ideas and thoughts, but he did so before many of the major thinkers presented similar or the same thoughts and ideas.
Take Proust, commonly associated today with his monumental novel whose two major themes are involuntary memory, and the importance of association/analogy. Leopardi preceded Proust in both involuntary memory:
It often happens that the slightest circumstance, as though it jogged a spring in our memory, recalls ideas and memories even from the distant past, without any part being played by the will and without our thoughts at the time having anything to do with it. (Z184)
I have said elsewhere that memory cannot exist without attention, and that where there was no attention at all paid to something, it is impossible for any recollection of it to remain or come back. Attention can be greater or lesser and according to the memory (natural or acquired) of the person, and according to the greater or lesser durability and keenness of the recollection which follows from it. It can indeed be minimal, but if any recollection at all is present, it is certain that some degree of attention preceded it, It can also be the case that someone is not aware, does not think, does not remember that he ever paid any attention at all to that thing that he remembers, but in such as case, which is not uncommon, he is deceiving himself. Perhaps the attention was involuntary, perhaps it was even against his will, but it was no less attention for all that. If the particular thing struck him, made him pause, even only momentarily, even only very slightly, even decidedly against his will, even if he immediately turned his mind away from it, that is enough, the attention was there; that it struck him is the same as making him pay attention, however little and for however short a time, but making him do it in spite of himself. (Z3737)
and association/analogy:
In a state of enthusiasm, in the heat of any passion, etc. etc., the mind discovers most vivid resemblances between things, Even the most fleeting vigor in the body, if it exerts some influence upon the spirit, causes it to see relationships between very disparate things, to find comparisons, extremely abstruse and ingenious similes (whether in serious or joking vein), shows it relations it had never thought of, in short gives it a marvellous facility to draw together and compare objects of the most distinct kinds, such as the ideal with the most purely material, to embody in a very vivid manner the most abstract thought, to reduce everything to image, and to create from it some of the most novel and vivid images you could think of . . . all contained in and deriving from the ability to discover relations between things that appear the least analogous, etc. (Z1650)
Those who discover significant distant relationships discover significant hidden truths . . . (Z2020)
This is just one example (with which I am the most familiar) of many; reading the 250-odd pages of notes, you come across one every so often which starts or ends with something like
In this thought, Leopardi precedes philosopher X's Theories of Y & Z
__________
Leopardi's thoughts can be broadly split into two categories:
I) Philosophical observations
II) Thoughts on Language
Leopardi is an incredibly erudite Philologist, and unless one is very familiar with Ancient and modern Greek, Latin, Italian, French, German, and Hebrew, not to mention some other languages, one will inevitably be incapable of fully appreciating roughly 50% of his thoughts (50% is a very rough guess; his early thoughts are virtually free of Philology, but there are later sections where page after page after page comprises Philological thoughts).
Some of these thoughts are interesting to read without any Philological knowledge, but others are incredibly long and dense, and will inevitably be skipped over, until you wish to revisit the volume years down the line, armed with verbal knowledge, gained by realising that the power of the polyglot:
Hence you can deduce how useful the knowledge of many languages is, since each has some particular property and value, this is more fluent for one thing, that for another, this is more powerful in this thing, that in another, this can more easily express such and such a precise idea, that cannot or only with difficulty. It is unquestionable: the bare knowledge of many languages in itself increases the number of ideas, and generates them in the mind, and allows them to be abundantly and easily acquired. (Z2213)
Knowing several languages affords some greater facility and clarity in the way we formulate our thoughts, for it is through language that we think. Now, perhaps no language has enough words and phrases to correspond to and express all the infinite subtleties of thought. The knowledge of several languages and the ability, therefore, to express in one language what cannot be said in another, or cannot at least be expressed so succinctly or concisely, or which we cannot find as quickly in another language, makes it easier for us to articulate our thoughts and to understand ourselves, and to apply the word to the idea, which, without that application, would remain confused in our mind. Having found the word in whatever language, since we understand its meaning, which is clear and already known through other people’s usage, our idea becomes clear and settled and consistent and remains fixed and well-defined in our mind, and firmly determined and circumscribed. I have experienced this on many occasions, and it can be seen in these same thoughts, written with the flow of the pen, where I have fixed my ideas with Greek, French, Latin words, according to how for me they responded more precisely to the thing, and came most quickly to my mind,. For an idea without a word or a way to express it is lost to us, or roams about undefined in our thoughts, and is imperfectly understood by we who have conceived it. With the word, it takes on body and almost visible, tangible, and distinct form. (Z94-95)
Unfortunately, having no languages other than English, I will not attempt to do justice to his thoughts on this front.
On the Philosophical side however, I could appreciate and relate very strongly. Some of his favourite topics include Habituation, the supremacy of the Ancients over the Moderns, the degrading effects of Civilization, Reason, Beauty, Taste, Romanticism and Sensitivity, Books and Studies, Poetry, Pleasure, and Pessimism; the whole work is suffused with Pessimism. You may at times need a strong mind to stomach what he's saying, precisely because it's true, but, if you can soldier on, you may find him, as Schopenhauer says above, imparting a stimulating effect . . .
Everything is evil. That is to say everything that is, is evil; that each thing exists is an evil; each thing exists only for an evil end; existence is an evil and made or evil; the end of the universe is evil; the order and the state, the laws, the natural development of the universe are nothing but evil, and they are directed to nothing but evil. There is no other good except nonbeing; there is nothing good except what is not; things that are not things: all things are bad. All existence; the complex of so many words that exist; the universe; is only a spot, a speck in metaphysics. Existence, by its nature and essence and generally, is an imperfection, an irregularity, a monstrosity. But this imperfection is a tiny thing, literally a spot, because all the worlds that exist, however many and in size, are consequently infinitely small in comparison with the size the universe might be if it were infinite, and the whole of existence is infinitely small in comparison with the true infinity, so to speak, of nonexistence, of nothing.
This System, although it clashes with those ideas of ours that the end can be n o other than good, is probably more sustainable than that of Leibniz, Pope, etc., that everything is good. I would not dare however to go on to say that the universe which exists is the worst of possible universes, thereby substituting pessimism for optimism. Who can know the limits of possibility?
. . .
Not only individual men, but the whole human race was and always will be necessarily unhappy. Not only the human race but the whole animal world. Not only animals but all other beings in their way. Not only individuals, but species, genera, realms, spheres, systems, worlds.
Go into a garden of plants, grass, flowers. No matter how lovely it seems. Even in the mildest season of the year. You will not be able to look anywhere and not find suffering, That whole family of vegetation is in a state of souffrance, each in its own way to some degree. Here a rose is attacked by the sun, which has given it life; it withers, languishes, wilts. There a lily is sucked cruelly by a bee, in its most sensitive, most life-giving parts. Sweet honey is not produced by industrious, patient, good, virtuous bees without unspeakable torment for those most delicate fibres, without the pitiless massacre of flowerets. That tree is infested by an ant colony, that other one by caterpillars, flies, snails, mosquitos; this one is injured in its bark and afflicted by the air or buy the sun penetrating the wound; that other one has a damaged trunk, or roots; that other one has many dry leaves; that other one has its flowers gnawed at, nibbled; that other one has its fruits pierced, eaten away. That plant is too warm, this one too cold too much light, too much shade; too wet, too dry. One cannot grow or spread easily because there are obstacles and obstructions; another finds nowhere to lean, or has trouble and struggles to reach any support. In the whole garden you will not find a single plant in a state of perfect health. Here a branch is broken by the wind or by its own weight; there a gentle breeze is tearing a flower apart, and carries away a piece, a filament, a leaf, a living part of this or that plant, which has broken or been torn off. Meanwhile you torture the grass by stepping on it; you grind it down, crush it, squeeze out its blood, break it, kill it. A sensitive and gentle young maiden goes sweetly cutting and breaking off stems. A gardener expertly chops down trunks, breaking off sensitive limbs, with his nails, with his tools. Certainly these plants live on; some because their infirmities are not fatal, others because even with fatal diseases, plants, and animals as well, can manage to live on a little while. The spectacle of such abundance of life when you first go into this garden lifts your spirits, and that is why you think it is a joyful place. But in truth this life is wretched and unhappy, every garden is like a vast hospital (a place much more deplorable than a cemetery), and if these beings feel, or rather, were to feel, surely not being would be better for them than being. (Z4174-4177)
__________
A book that is unique, infinite, almost monstrous . . . A book that is not a book, a huge secret manuscript, which for a long time no one knew anything about, and which lay buried for years in a trunk, only for it to eventually come to light after its author had been dead for half a century.
The advertising matter and introductions state that Leopardi has long been neglected in the English speaking world; hopefully this translation will help his name become more familiar, and, one can hope, raise his name to occupy a more (deservingly) exalted status as a major philosophical figure.
In my hometown, where people knew that I was devoted to studying, they believed that I knew every language, and they would question me at random about any of them. They thought I was a poet, rhetorician, physicist, politician, doctor, theologian, etc., in short, super-encyclopedic. But they did not on that account believe I was anyone special and, in their ignorance of what it meant to be a man of letters, they didn't think I was comparable to men to letters from other places . . . (Z273-274)
. . . read by virtually no one, known to be of merit by very few scholars, known by name only by a very few others, and unknown by name or anything else by the great mass of literary people, and the rest of present-day Italians, and absolutely all foreigners. And yet there is a very large number of such writers who, despite being so neglected, are nevertheless truly excellent and deserving of esteem, study, and immortality, even more than or as much as those who are known. (Z698)
partial-credit
December 25, 2015A piece from The Guardian :
"Translation of Giacomo Leopardi's Zibaldone published :: Italians consider him one of their greatest minds, but 19th-century poet and philosopher remains somewhat unknown"
http://www.theguardian.com/world/2013...
_____________
"Giacomo Leopardi's Zibaldone, the Least Known Masterpiece of European Literature" ;; review in New Republic, 8November2013 ,, by Adam Kirsch ::
http://www.newrepublic.com/article/11...
"But there is nothing in all the thousands of pages of the Zibaldone to suggest that the world ever presented itself to Leopardi under the aspect of joy. What he had instead was the ambiguous pleasure of understanding—the power of reasoning out, in flashes of grim exaltation, why the unhappy world had no choice but to be unhappy. Everyone, perhaps, sees only as much of the world as his nature allows him to see. But for Leopardi, the connection between inner and outer reality was especially immediate, in a way that is characteristic of poetry, not philosophy. Even in the Zibaldone, then, he remains a poet; and perhaps this book is most significant as a vast objective correlative—bringing us as close as we can come, or want to come, to the brilliant bleakness of his inner life."
"Translation of Giacomo Leopardi's Zibaldone published :: Italians consider him one of their greatest minds, but 19th-century poet and philosopher remains somewhat unknown"
http://www.theguardian.com/world/2013...
_____________
"Giacomo Leopardi's Zibaldone, the Least Known Masterpiece of European Literature" ;; review in New Republic, 8November2013 ,, by Adam Kirsch ::
http://www.newrepublic.com/article/11...
"But there is nothing in all the thousands of pages of the Zibaldone to suggest that the world ever presented itself to Leopardi under the aspect of joy. What he had instead was the ambiguous pleasure of understanding—the power of reasoning out, in flashes of grim exaltation, why the unhappy world had no choice but to be unhappy. Everyone, perhaps, sees only as much of the world as his nature allows him to see. But for Leopardi, the connection between inner and outer reality was especially immediate, in a way that is characteristic of poetry, not philosophy. Even in the Zibaldone, then, he remains a poet; and perhaps this book is most significant as a vast objective correlative—bringing us as close as we can come, or want to come, to the brilliant bleakness of his inner life."
April 26, 2019
ZIBALDONE
Giacomo Leopardi (1798-1837)
Leopardi was an Italian scholar, poet, and philosopher, one of the great writers of the 19th century.
The ZIBALDONE is a lifelong collection of short notes, hardly more extended than a page or two.
Subjects of notes while reading the first 500 pages:
About classic authors, Homer, Dante, L’Arioste, Petrarque, Denis of Halicarnassus, Dion, Arrien, Herodotus, Thucydides, Xenophon, Corneille, Racine, Terence, Plautus, Ovid, Pindar, Anacreon, Alcee, Simonides.
About the usefulness and need for comedies.
Note: How terrible it must be for an old man of 80 to realise that he will die in the next ten years!
About Montesquieu, The Academy, Globalisation, Nationalism.
On Imagination, the theory of pleasure.
Thoughts of Infinity. About our preference for symmetry.
Proverb: Beauty resides in an instant, Grace in duration.
Must read: Tristram Shandy.
On the poem of “Ossian.”
French bashing… my definition of the author’s strongly expressed dislike of all French Literature, Language, and Authors etc.
Quote: Mankind lives either from Religion or from illusions.
About Grace and Illusions, Dreams and Visions.
Despising notes on Bossuet whom he calls useless and ridiculous.
Voltaire, however, calls Bossuet the most eloquent of eloquence.
Praises Demosthenes on eloquence.
Criticises Lord Byron and his literature.
About Machiavel and Giardini.
Extensive note about Napoleon.
Extensive French bashing. But he declares the French Language as the Universal language.
Few people speak English!
How Mathematics is the contrary of Pleasure.
Extensive note about how the Christian Religion is responsible for the destruction of Beauty, Grandeur, Life and Variety in this world.
About the Grandeur of the Antiquity and the Smallness of Modernity.
About the soil; those who own it and those who labour it.
About the mutual dislike of Nature and Reason.
Study on the Immunity of Heralds which could be so only by convention, not naturally.
Must read: Theophrastus. A man should read for a purpose, not to spend some time.
Animals do not need laws, nor religion.
Neither Man nor Civilisation is perfectible; only Nature is perfect.
Philosophical considerations about harmony.
French Bashing.
Religion bashing.
About the Bible, Adam and Eve, of the tree of knowledge leading to human corruption.
Must read: Velleius, Florus.
French bashing.
About the Italian obsession of sharing emotion instantly.
These comments are meant to give my reader friends an idea of what this book is about.
But I will place it back on my library shelf and will likely pick it up from time to time to read a few pages.
The book has its merit for providing several classical reading suggestions.
Giacomo Leopardi (1798-1837)
Leopardi was an Italian scholar, poet, and philosopher, one of the great writers of the 19th century.
The ZIBALDONE is a lifelong collection of short notes, hardly more extended than a page or two.
Subjects of notes while reading the first 500 pages:
About classic authors, Homer, Dante, L’Arioste, Petrarque, Denis of Halicarnassus, Dion, Arrien, Herodotus, Thucydides, Xenophon, Corneille, Racine, Terence, Plautus, Ovid, Pindar, Anacreon, Alcee, Simonides.
About the usefulness and need for comedies.
Note: How terrible it must be for an old man of 80 to realise that he will die in the next ten years!
About Montesquieu, The Academy, Globalisation, Nationalism.
On Imagination, the theory of pleasure.
Thoughts of Infinity. About our preference for symmetry.
Proverb: Beauty resides in an instant, Grace in duration.
Must read: Tristram Shandy.
On the poem of “Ossian.”
French bashing… my definition of the author’s strongly expressed dislike of all French Literature, Language, and Authors etc.
Quote: Mankind lives either from Religion or from illusions.
About Grace and Illusions, Dreams and Visions.
Despising notes on Bossuet whom he calls useless and ridiculous.
Voltaire, however, calls Bossuet the most eloquent of eloquence.
Praises Demosthenes on eloquence.
Criticises Lord Byron and his literature.
About Machiavel and Giardini.
Extensive note about Napoleon.
Extensive French bashing. But he declares the French Language as the Universal language.
Few people speak English!
How Mathematics is the contrary of Pleasure.
Extensive note about how the Christian Religion is responsible for the destruction of Beauty, Grandeur, Life and Variety in this world.
About the Grandeur of the Antiquity and the Smallness of Modernity.
About the soil; those who own it and those who labour it.
About the mutual dislike of Nature and Reason.
Study on the Immunity of Heralds which could be so only by convention, not naturally.
Must read: Theophrastus. A man should read for a purpose, not to spend some time.
Animals do not need laws, nor religion.
Neither Man nor Civilisation is perfectible; only Nature is perfect.
Philosophical considerations about harmony.
French Bashing.
Religion bashing.
About the Bible, Adam and Eve, of the tree of knowledge leading to human corruption.
Must read: Velleius, Florus.
French bashing.
About the Italian obsession of sharing emotion instantly.
These comments are meant to give my reader friends an idea of what this book is about.
But I will place it back on my library shelf and will likely pick it up from time to time to read a few pages.
The book has its merit for providing several classical reading suggestions.
January 9, 2015
Leopardi's epic notebook, "Zibaldone" or Hodgepodge, translated into English for the first time at over 4,500 pages, is a bibliophile's dream. It's a immense readable tome with a wealth of insight. It's great to pull of your bookshelf in between reads, which I have been doing on and off for the past year. I'll probably be reading it till the day I die.
January 29, 2012
Di Leopardi leggerei anche la lista della spesa. E anche quella saprebbe regalarmi emozioni sconfinate.
"Nessun maggior segno d'essere poco filosofo e poco savio, che volere savia e filosofica tutta la vita."
"Nessun maggior segno d'essere poco filosofo e poco savio, che volere savia e filosofica tutta la vita."
January 2, 2014
A great book, finally available in English. Thank you FSG!
Anywhere you open this 2500-page tome you are likely to find something engaging.
I'm looking for some good quotes but so far my favorite passages are all long.
You can read a review by Tim Parks here:
http://www.nybooks.com/articles/archi...
And one by Robert Pogue Harrison here:
http://www.ft.com/cms/s/2/ae962862-03...
Anywhere you open this 2500-page tome you are likely to find something engaging.
I'm looking for some good quotes but so far my favorite passages are all long.
You can read a review by Tim Parks here:
http://www.nybooks.com/articles/archi...
And one by Robert Pogue Harrison here:
http://www.ft.com/cms/s/2/ae962862-03...
November 19, 2023
Scattered considerations, spread over the period 1817-1832, but mainly concentrated around 1820-1821. This book offers a selection. Themes: linguistics, literature, culture, autobiography, philosophy. Not everything is deep and thorough. Much about Greek antique literature and language, especially an ode to Homer (p 169ev), Dante (192) and, to a lesser extent, to Virgil and Petrarca. Some really brilliant insights.
August 27, 2017
Il silenzio è il linguaggio delle forti passioni
April 1, 2015
La summa di tutto, del nostro niente, di ciò che siamo...
July 15, 2014
Leopardi is a genius, and this book is best enjoyed by someone fluent in Greek, Latin, Spanish, French, and Italian, like the author. Between the detailed notes on language, there is an absolutely brilliant set of philosophical insights that make this book worthwhile. However, an edited version of this that only contains his philosophy would be even better because it would be more accessible.
June 5, 2021
"Pel timore di non fare cose pessime, non ci attentiamo di farne delle ottime, e ne facciamo delle mediocri." (p. 12)
"Il timore è più fecondo d'illusioni che la speranza." (p. 66)
"... con quella solita illusione che noi ci facciamo, cioè che nel mondo e nella vita ci debba esser sempre un'eccezione a favor nostro." (p. 118)
"E l'uomo non può quasi sperare senza temere, e tanto più quanto la speranza è maggiore. Chi spera teme, e il disperato non teme nulla." (p. 283)
"Chi oltre il sapere e il pensar poco, non ragiona, facilmente crede." (p. 430)
"Il timore è più fecondo d'illusioni che la speranza." (p. 66)
"... con quella solita illusione che noi ci facciamo, cioè che nel mondo e nella vita ci debba esser sempre un'eccezione a favor nostro." (p. 118)
"E l'uomo non può quasi sperare senza temere, e tanto più quanto la speranza è maggiore. Chi spera teme, e il disperato non teme nulla." (p. 283)
"Chi oltre il sapere e il pensar poco, non ragiona, facilmente crede." (p. 430)
March 6, 2025
"Op ieder punt van het leven, ook tijdens de grootste genotsdaad, ook gedurende de droom, verkeert de mens of het levend wezen in een toestand van verlangen, en er is dan ook niet één moment in het leven (uitgezonderd de momenten van totale verdoving en uitschakeling van de zintuigen en de gedachten, om welke reden dan ook) waarop het individu niet in een toestand van pijn verkeert. En deze is des te groter naarmate hij of door leeftijd, of door karakter of natuurlijke aanleg, of door directe of indirecte omstandigheden, of naar gewoonte of incidenteel in een toestand van grotere sensibiliteit en vitaliteit verkeert, en andersom."
April 19, 2016
This "book" is possibly the biggest behemoth I have ever come across. And it's not an easy read either. The (translated) writing is poetic. The subject matter is diverse with no flow from one topic to another. I had never heard of Leopardi before seeing this book, so it was a pleasure to finally read something from him.
**I received a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.**
**I received a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.**
Want to read
September 10, 2015the author is very good page after page you will not be sorry for reading this book the page turner is hot for sure
December 31, 2018
One of the most extraordinary intellectual diaries ever
August 29, 2018
Many nuggets of wisdom, but a bit laborious to get through.
September 5, 2020
Behemoth, more of a reference text than anything else. One of the true great geniuses of Italy.
December 14, 2020
A must read: an instrospective masterpiece of one of the most tormented yet rational minds Italy has ever had. It gives a deep perspective on stuff that we, as humans, usually look over.
Read
October 21, 2021Zibaldone di pensieri
by Giacomo Leopardi
[Symphony No. 9 of philosophical literature]
This is an introspectiveness that has the curious property of looking outward,
or, to avoid the senseless paradox, it is the concentrated effort of a mind that looks
to the outside to examine itself and examines itself in order to measure what is without.
Reading Zibaldone is like getting permission to go into a room that is usually locked.
It is a chance to let the dark thoughts speak. It is a chance to look at the desolation
without brushing it away. It is a chance to sit and soak in the melancholy.
Right now, at this time in history, soaking in the melancholy seems the right thing to do.
We are surrounded, after all, by a civilization that seeks pleasure and distraction
with a shrillness that makes Imperial Rome look reserved. The current mainstream
discussion of human happiness and infinite progress is so coarse that it has been
more or less abandoned to the technocrats. Reflective persons have nowhere to turn.
And then a volume like Zibaldone turns up. Leopardi, in his infinite gloom,
takes on the guise of a savior.
The Zibaldone is a field of hidden tensions that the reader is urged and almost obliged to uncover
and interpret: horizontal tensions, between contiguous thoughts, which appear to confront
different problems but in fact respond to the same question; vertical tensions,
between different fields, which share structures, themes, images, forms of thought; chronological tensions, evident if one follows a thought in its development through the years; and, finally,
tensions between external and internal, that is, between the fragments of quoted texts and
the way in which they are written in Leopardi´s text. Often these tensions are manifested
in apparent contradictions that Leopardi refuses to resolve, and which he uses as tools for
pursuing continuous variations, even when the subject might seem closed once and for all.
His investigations, which at times seem like those of a detective, and his close arguments
are a challenge, a constant effort to understand the complexity and dynamism of the world
without succumbing to the sirens of logic and history (and its dominant tendencies).
Each thought stands on its own, it always begins again, with a slight indentation at
the beginning of the first line, and nearly always concludes with a date.
Nature and the ancients were his salvation and his true teachers. He therefore choose to start
again from zero, from the primordial energies of man, from the origin of the self and the body,
from the childhood of the world. We should not be deceived by the initial idealization of nature
and the ancients. This is a regressive choice, which begins by borrowing the vocabulary of Rousseau.
But it allows him to reject the present without giving in to the enticements of idealism or of any
ideology, and to analyze the subject without turning it into an immaterial entity, on the contrary,
rooting it in the body, in nature, and in history. Leopardi´s position in fact immediately becomes
more complex and probes deeper. Nostalgia for the origins goes hand in hand with the analysis
of the process that has led him to move ever further away from them, and turn him into a modern. this process is irreversible, there is no possibility of going back. The awareness he acquires,
leaving Rousseau behind, makes Leopardi an anthropologist of modernity: ¨Modern civilization must not be considered simply as a continuation of ancient civilization, as its progression... these
two civilizations, which are essentially different, are and must be considered as two seperate
civilizations, or rather two different and distinct species of civilization, each actually complete
in itself¨ (Z 4171).
It is not, in short, a question only of nostalgia (although such an outlook is deeply rooted
in Leopardi). Rather, it is an exploration leading toward ever deeper and more archaic strata
of the self, an archaeology conducted in a context that is historical and at the same time cosmic.
From contemplating an infinite universe where there is no trace of man´s primacy
(Giordano Bruno), Leopardi turns to investigating the ways in which the ¨human¨ is constituted
through language, interrogating the mechanisms of his own mind which he understands as
a body that speaks and thinks, a mechanism that produces reason and imagination,
computation and poetry.
It is only in the past few years that the landscape has begun to change, and new studies,
oriented in different directions, are reconceptualizing Leopardi as one of the key thinkers of modernity.
Thoughts
I. A slight dissonance in a piece of music is not recognized by ordinary people, just as a child does
not recognize minor defects in the human form, not even serious ones sometimes. when a piece
of music is rather abstruse, that is, even if the harmonies are the slightest bit unfamiliar,
they will not even recognize major dissonances, and the same goes propartionately for
cultured persons, and sometimes even for the knowledgeable. (10 sept. 1821.)
II. The human mind has a huge capacity. It rises up as high as God, succeeds after a fashion
in knowing him, although it cannot define him. What it feels when contemplating and considering
him is not strictly speaking despair of ever knowing him. It merely knows that it is not God,
and sees what difference in essence and existence there is between him and it, as between it and
other creatures. Indeed, it feels itself to be more like, and more capable of imagining and penetrating into the mode in which God exists, than it can that of other creatures.
These claims are not rash. Religion teaches that man is a mirror of the Divinity,
quasi unus ex nobis [as one of us]. (4 Sept. 1821.)
III. Since things are, possibility is primordially necessary, and independent of anything whatever.
Since no truth or falsehood, negation or affirmation is absolute, as I demonstrate, all things
are therefore possible, and infinite possibilty is therefore necessary and preexists everything.
But it cannot exist without a power which can so arrange it that things are, and are in any
possible mode whatsoever. If infinite possibility exists, infinite omnipotence exists,
because if the latter does not exist, the former is not true. Conversely, infinite omnipotence
cannot stand without infinite possibility. The one and the other are, we might say, the same thing.
If, then, infinite possiblity, preexisting all, independent of everything, of every idea, etc.,
is necessary (and in actual fact, if there is no possible reason why a thing is impossible,
and impossible in a particular mode, etc., infinite possibility is absolutely necessary), omnipotence
is then also necessary. There, then, is God, and his necessity, deduced from, existence, and his essence residing in infinite possibility, and hence formed out of all possible natures, etc. (7 Sept. 1821.)
IV. The whole of nature is adaptable in an infinite number of utterly different ways.
It has, however, so arranged things that those agents and forces, animal or otherwise,
whose task is to adapt it, do so as it has intended, and so as to answer to its system, its design,
its original plan, the order it had wished for. If then man, very obviously doing violence to nature,
and overcoming countless natural obstacles, has succeeded in adapting both himself and the part
of nature that naturally depended upon him, and the far larger part that has come to depend upon
him solely by virtue of his alteration of it; if he has succeeded, I repeat, in adapting all that in a way
utterly different from that plan, that order that with wise reasoning we find to have been destined,
intended, aimed at, targeted, wished for, disposed by nature: this cannot serve either as a proof
against nature or as a proof that nature had not effectively wished for that original order;
nor that the perfection of things, so far as man is concerned, has not been lost; nor that the course
of our species, and of whatever depends on it or belongs to it, is natural; nor that nature did not
really have in view, had not conceived and procured with all the forces at its disposal an order of
things as simple in its constitutive principles, its elements, its productive forces, its qualities
analyzed and decompounded, as it is certain, determinate, consistent, and at the same time harmonious, fecund, and very various in its effects, susceptible to countless modifications,
and subject also to many accidental disharmonies, though perhaps for no other reason than
to ensure a greater harmony. (20 Oct. 1821.)
V. Who among us would be capable of imaging, let alone of carrying out, the design of the universe,
its order, concatenation, artifice, the wonderful precision of its parts, etc. etc?
Sure sign that the universe is the work of an infinite intellect. -But do you realize that between
the extent and power of man´s intellect, and the extent and power of an infinite one
there is an infinite distance? (8 October 1825.)
VI. Whole years pass by without our experiencing an intense pleasure, indeed even a momentary
sensation of pleasure. Not a day goes by without a child doing so. What is the cause?
It is because there is science in us and ignorance in him. (2 July 1821.)
VII. If the universe were infinite, the infinity would be in the universe itself. (7 April 1827.)
VIII. On those rare occasions when I have met with some small piece of good fortune or some
reason to rejoice, instead of showing my joy outwardly, I have tended naturally toward melancholy,
as far as the outside was concerned, even though I was inwardly content. But I was afraid of
disturbing this calm and hidden joy, altering it, spoiling it, losing it by giving expression to it.
And i placed my joy in the custody of melancholy. (27 Dec. 1820.)
IX. Nature can compensate for reason, and often does, but reason can never make up for nature,
even when it seems to produce great deeds: which happens rarely: but even then the driving,
motive force comes not from reason but from nature. On the contrary, if you take away the forces
supplied by nature, reason will always be inactive and impotent. (no date.)
X. There is nothing more foolish and offensive to nature than to say and keep saying that perfection is not characteristic of created things, that nothing in the world is perfect,
that human affairs are imperfect, that perfect man cannot exist, etc. etc. What did that illustrious teacher, nature, lack in order to make her works perfect? Was it intelligence perhaps?
Or power? It is certainly the case that nothing is or can be perfect according to the frivolous idea
that we form for ourselves of an absolute perfection which does not exist, of a perfection independent of every kind of thing, and prior to them, when in them alone is every perfection enclosed, from them it derives, and in them and in their mode of being it has the sole cause
of its being, and of its being perfection. Certainly nothing is perfect in a mode that is not,
in a mode in which things are not, and the nature of things that are cannot correspond with that
which is outside of them and is not located in any place. We dream of finding the perfection of what we see in a sphere outside of existence, whereas, in fact, it exists here with us, and coexists with
every kind of thing that we know, and would not be perfection in any other possible case.
It is therefore not to be wondered at if everything seems imperfect to us, when we understand
perfect to mean existing in a mode in which things are not made, whereas perfection does not
consist of, and does not have any reason to be, anything else but the mode in which things
are made, each in its kind.
It is also certain that strictly human things are bound to seem wholly imperfect to us,
because in truth they are so. We fantasize about the perfectibilty of man, and after such
(purportedly) immense advances of the human spirit we are no nearer to our supposed perfection than before. And even if the faculties and knowledge of a God were to be placed in our hands,
in order to frame a perfect man in accordance with our ideas, we would not know how to do it,
because once we imagine an absolute and unique perfection, we cannot to all eternity know in what the perfection of man might consist, nor that of any other possible being, or kind of being.
For if we imagine a single and absolute type of perfection, independent of and prior to every sort of existence, all beings, to be perfect, must conform wholly to this type. Therefore, all must be perfectly equal and identical in nature; therefore, once kinds exist, there necessarily exists an immense imperfection in the actual essence of all things, which cannot be removed safe by confusing all things together, extirpating all possible natures, existent or nonexistent, and all possible modes of being, and once again reducing the whole, and all of existence to that type of perfection that is prior to existence, and hence does not exist. What, then, do we understand by the perfection of man? What is that we claim to be going toward? What is the goal of the purported perfecting of our mind? What is the proper, even indeed the possible perfection of man, even if he is in a state of eternal Beatitude, in Paradise?
It is therefore not to be wondered at if every human thing always evokes in us the idea of imperfection, and leaves us dissatisfied, and if we cry out that man is imperfect. Such he truly is today, and such he will never cease being, once he left the perfection that he used to carry with him, consisting in the natural state of his species, and in the natural use of his natural dispositions. Losing sight at the type he had before his eyes, which was himself, or perhaps his own species, he has followed after an imaginary perfection, absolute and universal, which does not have, nor can it have, any type, since a type could only be prior to existence, and hence by its very nature be nonexistent, and vain. For absolute perfection (or its type) and existence are contradictory terms.
(13 Oct. 1821.)
XI. Furthermore, what will this perfection of man then be? When and how shall we be perfect, that is to say, true men? At what point, in what shall human perfection consist? What will its essence be? Every other kind of creature well knows what it is. But our civilization will either make ever more advances, or it will regress. A limit, a goal cannot be seen (according to philosophers), and there isn´t one. Still less a midpoint. We shall therefore never know in all eternity what thing, and what manner of things, man is properly supposed to be, nor if we are perfect or not, etc. etc. Everything is uncertain and lacks a norm and a model, once we distance ourselves from that of nature, the sole form and reason of the mode of being. (2 September 1821.)
by Giacomo Leopardi
[Symphony No. 9 of philosophical literature]
This is an introspectiveness that has the curious property of looking outward,
or, to avoid the senseless paradox, it is the concentrated effort of a mind that looks
to the outside to examine itself and examines itself in order to measure what is without.
Reading Zibaldone is like getting permission to go into a room that is usually locked.
It is a chance to let the dark thoughts speak. It is a chance to look at the desolation
without brushing it away. It is a chance to sit and soak in the melancholy.
Right now, at this time in history, soaking in the melancholy seems the right thing to do.
We are surrounded, after all, by a civilization that seeks pleasure and distraction
with a shrillness that makes Imperial Rome look reserved. The current mainstream
discussion of human happiness and infinite progress is so coarse that it has been
more or less abandoned to the technocrats. Reflective persons have nowhere to turn.
And then a volume like Zibaldone turns up. Leopardi, in his infinite gloom,
takes on the guise of a savior.
The Zibaldone is a field of hidden tensions that the reader is urged and almost obliged to uncover
and interpret: horizontal tensions, between contiguous thoughts, which appear to confront
different problems but in fact respond to the same question; vertical tensions,
between different fields, which share structures, themes, images, forms of thought; chronological tensions, evident if one follows a thought in its development through the years; and, finally,
tensions between external and internal, that is, between the fragments of quoted texts and
the way in which they are written in Leopardi´s text. Often these tensions are manifested
in apparent contradictions that Leopardi refuses to resolve, and which he uses as tools for
pursuing continuous variations, even when the subject might seem closed once and for all.
His investigations, which at times seem like those of a detective, and his close arguments
are a challenge, a constant effort to understand the complexity and dynamism of the world
without succumbing to the sirens of logic and history (and its dominant tendencies).
Each thought stands on its own, it always begins again, with a slight indentation at
the beginning of the first line, and nearly always concludes with a date.
Nature and the ancients were his salvation and his true teachers. He therefore choose to start
again from zero, from the primordial energies of man, from the origin of the self and the body,
from the childhood of the world. We should not be deceived by the initial idealization of nature
and the ancients. This is a regressive choice, which begins by borrowing the vocabulary of Rousseau.
But it allows him to reject the present without giving in to the enticements of idealism or of any
ideology, and to analyze the subject without turning it into an immaterial entity, on the contrary,
rooting it in the body, in nature, and in history. Leopardi´s position in fact immediately becomes
more complex and probes deeper. Nostalgia for the origins goes hand in hand with the analysis
of the process that has led him to move ever further away from them, and turn him into a modern. this process is irreversible, there is no possibility of going back. The awareness he acquires,
leaving Rousseau behind, makes Leopardi an anthropologist of modernity: ¨Modern civilization must not be considered simply as a continuation of ancient civilization, as its progression... these
two civilizations, which are essentially different, are and must be considered as two seperate
civilizations, or rather two different and distinct species of civilization, each actually complete
in itself¨ (Z 4171).
It is not, in short, a question only of nostalgia (although such an outlook is deeply rooted
in Leopardi). Rather, it is an exploration leading toward ever deeper and more archaic strata
of the self, an archaeology conducted in a context that is historical and at the same time cosmic.
From contemplating an infinite universe where there is no trace of man´s primacy
(Giordano Bruno), Leopardi turns to investigating the ways in which the ¨human¨ is constituted
through language, interrogating the mechanisms of his own mind which he understands as
a body that speaks and thinks, a mechanism that produces reason and imagination,
computation and poetry.
It is only in the past few years that the landscape has begun to change, and new studies,
oriented in different directions, are reconceptualizing Leopardi as one of the key thinkers of modernity.
Thoughts
I. A slight dissonance in a piece of music is not recognized by ordinary people, just as a child does
not recognize minor defects in the human form, not even serious ones sometimes. when a piece
of music is rather abstruse, that is, even if the harmonies are the slightest bit unfamiliar,
they will not even recognize major dissonances, and the same goes propartionately for
cultured persons, and sometimes even for the knowledgeable. (10 sept. 1821.)
II. The human mind has a huge capacity. It rises up as high as God, succeeds after a fashion
in knowing him, although it cannot define him. What it feels when contemplating and considering
him is not strictly speaking despair of ever knowing him. It merely knows that it is not God,
and sees what difference in essence and existence there is between him and it, as between it and
other creatures. Indeed, it feels itself to be more like, and more capable of imagining and penetrating into the mode in which God exists, than it can that of other creatures.
These claims are not rash. Religion teaches that man is a mirror of the Divinity,
quasi unus ex nobis [as one of us]. (4 Sept. 1821.)
III. Since things are, possibility is primordially necessary, and independent of anything whatever.
Since no truth or falsehood, negation or affirmation is absolute, as I demonstrate, all things
are therefore possible, and infinite possibilty is therefore necessary and preexists everything.
But it cannot exist without a power which can so arrange it that things are, and are in any
possible mode whatsoever. If infinite possibility exists, infinite omnipotence exists,
because if the latter does not exist, the former is not true. Conversely, infinite omnipotence
cannot stand without infinite possibility. The one and the other are, we might say, the same thing.
If, then, infinite possiblity, preexisting all, independent of everything, of every idea, etc.,
is necessary (and in actual fact, if there is no possible reason why a thing is impossible,
and impossible in a particular mode, etc., infinite possibility is absolutely necessary), omnipotence
is then also necessary. There, then, is God, and his necessity, deduced from, existence, and his essence residing in infinite possibility, and hence formed out of all possible natures, etc. (7 Sept. 1821.)
IV. The whole of nature is adaptable in an infinite number of utterly different ways.
It has, however, so arranged things that those agents and forces, animal or otherwise,
whose task is to adapt it, do so as it has intended, and so as to answer to its system, its design,
its original plan, the order it had wished for. If then man, very obviously doing violence to nature,
and overcoming countless natural obstacles, has succeeded in adapting both himself and the part
of nature that naturally depended upon him, and the far larger part that has come to depend upon
him solely by virtue of his alteration of it; if he has succeeded, I repeat, in adapting all that in a way
utterly different from that plan, that order that with wise reasoning we find to have been destined,
intended, aimed at, targeted, wished for, disposed by nature: this cannot serve either as a proof
against nature or as a proof that nature had not effectively wished for that original order;
nor that the perfection of things, so far as man is concerned, has not been lost; nor that the course
of our species, and of whatever depends on it or belongs to it, is natural; nor that nature did not
really have in view, had not conceived and procured with all the forces at its disposal an order of
things as simple in its constitutive principles, its elements, its productive forces, its qualities
analyzed and decompounded, as it is certain, determinate, consistent, and at the same time harmonious, fecund, and very various in its effects, susceptible to countless modifications,
and subject also to many accidental disharmonies, though perhaps for no other reason than
to ensure a greater harmony. (20 Oct. 1821.)
V. Who among us would be capable of imaging, let alone of carrying out, the design of the universe,
its order, concatenation, artifice, the wonderful precision of its parts, etc. etc?
Sure sign that the universe is the work of an infinite intellect. -But do you realize that between
the extent and power of man´s intellect, and the extent and power of an infinite one
there is an infinite distance? (8 October 1825.)
VI. Whole years pass by without our experiencing an intense pleasure, indeed even a momentary
sensation of pleasure. Not a day goes by without a child doing so. What is the cause?
It is because there is science in us and ignorance in him. (2 July 1821.)
VII. If the universe were infinite, the infinity would be in the universe itself. (7 April 1827.)
VIII. On those rare occasions when I have met with some small piece of good fortune or some
reason to rejoice, instead of showing my joy outwardly, I have tended naturally toward melancholy,
as far as the outside was concerned, even though I was inwardly content. But I was afraid of
disturbing this calm and hidden joy, altering it, spoiling it, losing it by giving expression to it.
And i placed my joy in the custody of melancholy. (27 Dec. 1820.)
IX. Nature can compensate for reason, and often does, but reason can never make up for nature,
even when it seems to produce great deeds: which happens rarely: but even then the driving,
motive force comes not from reason but from nature. On the contrary, if you take away the forces
supplied by nature, reason will always be inactive and impotent. (no date.)
X. There is nothing more foolish and offensive to nature than to say and keep saying that perfection is not characteristic of created things, that nothing in the world is perfect,
that human affairs are imperfect, that perfect man cannot exist, etc. etc. What did that illustrious teacher, nature, lack in order to make her works perfect? Was it intelligence perhaps?
Or power? It is certainly the case that nothing is or can be perfect according to the frivolous idea
that we form for ourselves of an absolute perfection which does not exist, of a perfection independent of every kind of thing, and prior to them, when in them alone is every perfection enclosed, from them it derives, and in them and in their mode of being it has the sole cause
of its being, and of its being perfection. Certainly nothing is perfect in a mode that is not,
in a mode in which things are not, and the nature of things that are cannot correspond with that
which is outside of them and is not located in any place. We dream of finding the perfection of what we see in a sphere outside of existence, whereas, in fact, it exists here with us, and coexists with
every kind of thing that we know, and would not be perfection in any other possible case.
It is therefore not to be wondered at if everything seems imperfect to us, when we understand
perfect to mean existing in a mode in which things are not made, whereas perfection does not
consist of, and does not have any reason to be, anything else but the mode in which things
are made, each in its kind.
It is also certain that strictly human things are bound to seem wholly imperfect to us,
because in truth they are so. We fantasize about the perfectibilty of man, and after such
(purportedly) immense advances of the human spirit we are no nearer to our supposed perfection than before. And even if the faculties and knowledge of a God were to be placed in our hands,
in order to frame a perfect man in accordance with our ideas, we would not know how to do it,
because once we imagine an absolute and unique perfection, we cannot to all eternity know in what the perfection of man might consist, nor that of any other possible being, or kind of being.
For if we imagine a single and absolute type of perfection, independent of and prior to every sort of existence, all beings, to be perfect, must conform wholly to this type. Therefore, all must be perfectly equal and identical in nature; therefore, once kinds exist, there necessarily exists an immense imperfection in the actual essence of all things, which cannot be removed safe by confusing all things together, extirpating all possible natures, existent or nonexistent, and all possible modes of being, and once again reducing the whole, and all of existence to that type of perfection that is prior to existence, and hence does not exist. What, then, do we understand by the perfection of man? What is that we claim to be going toward? What is the goal of the purported perfecting of our mind? What is the proper, even indeed the possible perfection of man, even if he is in a state of eternal Beatitude, in Paradise?
It is therefore not to be wondered at if every human thing always evokes in us the idea of imperfection, and leaves us dissatisfied, and if we cry out that man is imperfect. Such he truly is today, and such he will never cease being, once he left the perfection that he used to carry with him, consisting in the natural state of his species, and in the natural use of his natural dispositions. Losing sight at the type he had before his eyes, which was himself, or perhaps his own species, he has followed after an imaginary perfection, absolute and universal, which does not have, nor can it have, any type, since a type could only be prior to existence, and hence by its very nature be nonexistent, and vain. For absolute perfection (or its type) and existence are contradictory terms.
(13 Oct. 1821.)
XI. Furthermore, what will this perfection of man then be? When and how shall we be perfect, that is to say, true men? At what point, in what shall human perfection consist? What will its essence be? Every other kind of creature well knows what it is. But our civilization will either make ever more advances, or it will regress. A limit, a goal cannot be seen (according to philosophers), and there isn´t one. Still less a midpoint. We shall therefore never know in all eternity what thing, and what manner of things, man is properly supposed to be, nor if we are perfect or not, etc. etc. Everything is uncertain and lacks a norm and a model, once we distance ourselves from that of nature, the sole form and reason of the mode of being. (2 September 1821.)
Currently reading
June 24, 2019For me it is a very good book when I am in the mood for some philosophical thinking but don't know where to start...
I really enjoy reading it, every time a dozen pages maybe, but I doubt I will ever finish it.
I really enjoy reading it, every time a dozen pages maybe, but I doubt I will ever finish it.
August 8, 2019
比想象中十九世纪得多。他并不是以一种超脱的睿智（我已经不相信这种东西了），而是以承受苦难的勇气和坚强在否定他所否定的。断断续续读了半年，多么致郁又治愈的经历啊……（眼睁睁看着一个敌视理性的浪漫主义青年变成了怀疑自然的唯物主义者……始终和他在一起的都剩下啥？大概只有《伊利亚特》了吧？）
November 11, 2019
To be reviewed soon...
March 1, 2022
Goodstuff.
Want to read
April 14, 2023"Il giovane che entra nel mondo vuol diventarci qualche cosa".
March 29, 2025
Un Gigante della letteratura. Seguirne i pensieri è stupendo ed un vero toccasana per l'anima e l'intelletto
March 19, 2021
66 ore di lettura. Felice di averlo letto. Questa edizione è ottimamente organizzata.
March 24, 2017
La strage continua delle illusioni. Facebook è notoriamente il luogo dove tutti ci diamo appuntamento per dare libero sfogo alle nostre passioni, antipatie, odi, insofferenze, fobie, avversioni, intolleranze, allergie, rigetti, insomma tutte quelle idiosincrasie che caratterizzano e distinguono gli uomini dagli animali. Il confronto, ovviamente, va tutto a favore degli animali. Sono anni che frequento questo posto, forse uno dei primi a scrivermi alla versione anglo-americana, per questa ragione ho scritto "ci diamo appuntamento". Per i milioni e milioni di iscritti a questo social, i frequentatori, secondo le ultime stime, ammontano a oltre mezzo miliardo di persone. Sono ancora molti, però, coloro i quali si ostinano a non usarlo. Anzi lo detestano e lo osteggiano.
Ho visto molti cambiare idea nel corso degli anni, per rendersi conto poi che FB non è altro che un mezzo di comunicazione come un altro, evoluto nella sua specie e dagli sviluppi imprevedibili. Accanto ad esso, anzi spesso contro, per naturale gelosia e concorrenza, ne sono nati tanti altri. Ogni giorno se ne annuncia uno nuovo, sotto diverse spoglie, ma con gli stessi fini ed obbiettivi: "fare mercato". Questa è l'idea centrale di tutto. Con gli anni, questi pochi anni trascorsi, una decina tutto sommato, questo sito sociale ha concorso a:
accoppiare, accordare, allegare, amalgamare, ambientare, ancorare, annodare, avvincere, bloccare, cingere, collegare, combinare, congiungere, coordinare, fasciare, fondere, imbrigliare, impacciare, imprigionare, incastonare, allacciare, mescolare, costringere, imporre, andare d'accordo, capirsi, rilegare, accordarsi, armonizzare, lasciare, testare, montare, obbligare, saldare, socializzare, stregare, unire, vincolare, avvicinare, assicurare, addensare, concatenare, star bene, uniformare, impastare, mischiare, accompagnare, intonare, agganciare, attaccare, fissare, chiudere, abbracciare, appassionare, attirare, attrarre, interessare, impantanare, tenere, trattenere, fasciarsi, indossare, mettere, vestire, connettere, comporre, concertare, cucire, sistemare, avvolgere, rivestire, aggregare, associare, conglobare, congregare, incorporare, riunire, unificare, aggiogare, preparare, sellare, impedire, infastidire, soffocare, impaniare, invischiare, ostacolare, incastrare, miscelare, impegnare, equilibrare, affiatarsi, comunicare, familiarizzare, fraternizzare, inserirsi, simpatizzare, adescare, affascinare, ammaliare, catturare, conquistare, innamorare, irretire, lusingare, rapire, sedurre, fare, appiccicare, incollare, comprimere, concludere, forzare, incalzare, mordere, restringere, ridurre, riprendere, tagliare, accostare, affiancare, applicare, appoggiare, conciliare, affidare, coprire, fermare, garantire, giurare, meritare, promettere, rassicurare, gonfiare, salire, inserire, riferire, disfare, dissolvere, gettare, sciogliere, concentrare, condensare, includere, produrre ...
Sono tutti sinonimi con i quali chi frequenta FB, e altri siti sociali, si illude di essere al centro di questo di questo grande, senza fondo calderone liquido in cui ognuno si tuffa, si esibisce, si informa, si illude, naviga, nuota, cerca, spesso defeca e vomita, e si danna. Qualcuno scrive anche, purtroppo, le sue ultime parole prima di sparire o di suicidarsi. Tutto rimarrà in eterno a girare tra "bits & bytes". C'è addirittura una "app", un programma, come si chiama in gergo, che offre la possibilità, dopo il trapasso del titolare, di segnalare la sua scomparsa e lanciare "preghiere" in sua memoria. Il mezzo è il messaggio.
Ecco, in questa babele comunicativa c'è chi si illude di cambiare il mondo e gli uomini, di lanciare programmi, fare campagna elettorale, fare proseliti ed anche apostolato. E' vero che il Presidente Obama ci vinse le elezioni, i "grillini" hanno conquistato centinaia di posti in Parlamento. Il Papa, su un altro social, ha dieci milioni di "followers" ma sempre meno credenti. A me sembra che tutto questo non faccia altro che concorrere ad aumentare la confusione delle idee e dei contenuti degli esseri umani. Qualcuno a questo punto mi obietterà: ma tu perché lo usi e ne scrivi? Per la semplice ragione perché chi ne è fuori, non avrebbe saputo tutto questo che ho scritto, che ho letto e saputo nel corso di questi anni che l'ho usato.
Diversi decenni orsono il famoso massmediologo Marshall McLuhan scrisse una frase anticipatrice. Egli disse: "The medium is the message" - "il mezzo è il messaggio". Cosa intendeva esattamente dire? In breve, e in maniera molto soggettiva, significa che non tutti "sanno" quello che fanno, scrivendo e comunicando tanto su FB che su tutti gli altri "social media". Confondono il mezzo con il messaggio, non sanno ciò che dicono. Aumentano soltanto la "liquidità" di quel calderone di cui ho parlato innanzi, fatto di tutte quelle parole che ho riportato. Si alimentano di esse e con esse si confondono, identificandosi.
Insomma, si comportano come quegli oratori politici e non che sono in grado di proseguire per ore ed ore nella loro incontenibile logorrea fatta di parole prive di idee. Ne volete un esempio? Avete mai sentito parlare di "cittadinanza attiva", "cittadino attivo", "opinione pubblica", "coscienza civile", "coscienza democratica", "impegno civico" e via discorrendo. Tutte espressioni, pregnanti di impegno, ma soltanto fumo indiano per annerire le praterie dell'esistenza e continuare a confondere le poche idee che i cittadini riescono ad avere navigando in questa palude esistenziale. Continua così quella che qualcuno di non poco conto definì "la strage delle illusioni".
Proprio in questi giorni ho riletto lo Zibaldone di Leopardi, in versione inglese. Finalmente tradotto dopo tre secoli. Sono in buona compagnia su quanto si possa pensare sugli uomini ed in particolare sugli Italiani, del nord, del sud e del centro, antichi, moderni o contemporanei. La strage delle illusioni continua, lo scrisse Giacomo. Lui, ahimè! Non sapeva sorridere. Io con gli anni, ho imparato a sorridere, tanto di me stesso che degli altri. Unico modo per non finire nella "strage" fatta di parole e idee che gli uomini si ostinano ad affidare ai "media" senza sapere usarli.
Ho visto molti cambiare idea nel corso degli anni, per rendersi conto poi che FB non è altro che un mezzo di comunicazione come un altro, evoluto nella sua specie e dagli sviluppi imprevedibili. Accanto ad esso, anzi spesso contro, per naturale gelosia e concorrenza, ne sono nati tanti altri. Ogni giorno se ne annuncia uno nuovo, sotto diverse spoglie, ma con gli stessi fini ed obbiettivi: "fare mercato". Questa è l'idea centrale di tutto. Con gli anni, questi pochi anni trascorsi, una decina tutto sommato, questo sito sociale ha concorso a:
accoppiare, accordare, allegare, amalgamare, ambientare, ancorare, annodare, avvincere, bloccare, cingere, collegare, combinare, congiungere, coordinare, fasciare, fondere, imbrigliare, impacciare, imprigionare, incastonare, allacciare, mescolare, costringere, imporre, andare d'accordo, capirsi, rilegare, accordarsi, armonizzare, lasciare, testare, montare, obbligare, saldare, socializzare, stregare, unire, vincolare, avvicinare, assicurare, addensare, concatenare, star bene, uniformare, impastare, mischiare, accompagnare, intonare, agganciare, attaccare, fissare, chiudere, abbracciare, appassionare, attirare, attrarre, interessare, impantanare, tenere, trattenere, fasciarsi, indossare, mettere, vestire, connettere, comporre, concertare, cucire, sistemare, avvolgere, rivestire, aggregare, associare, conglobare, congregare, incorporare, riunire, unificare, aggiogare, preparare, sellare, impedire, infastidire, soffocare, impaniare, invischiare, ostacolare, incastrare, miscelare, impegnare, equilibrare, affiatarsi, comunicare, familiarizzare, fraternizzare, inserirsi, simpatizzare, adescare, affascinare, ammaliare, catturare, conquistare, innamorare, irretire, lusingare, rapire, sedurre, fare, appiccicare, incollare, comprimere, concludere, forzare, incalzare, mordere, restringere, ridurre, riprendere, tagliare, accostare, affiancare, applicare, appoggiare, conciliare, affidare, coprire, fermare, garantire, giurare, meritare, promettere, rassicurare, gonfiare, salire, inserire, riferire, disfare, dissolvere, gettare, sciogliere, concentrare, condensare, includere, produrre ...
Sono tutti sinonimi con i quali chi frequenta FB, e altri siti sociali, si illude di essere al centro di questo di questo grande, senza fondo calderone liquido in cui ognuno si tuffa, si esibisce, si informa, si illude, naviga, nuota, cerca, spesso defeca e vomita, e si danna. Qualcuno scrive anche, purtroppo, le sue ultime parole prima di sparire o di suicidarsi. Tutto rimarrà in eterno a girare tra "bits & bytes". C'è addirittura una "app", un programma, come si chiama in gergo, che offre la possibilità, dopo il trapasso del titolare, di segnalare la sua scomparsa e lanciare "preghiere" in sua memoria. Il mezzo è il messaggio.
Ecco, in questa babele comunicativa c'è chi si illude di cambiare il mondo e gli uomini, di lanciare programmi, fare campagna elettorale, fare proseliti ed anche apostolato. E' vero che il Presidente Obama ci vinse le elezioni, i "grillini" hanno conquistato centinaia di posti in Parlamento. Il Papa, su un altro social, ha dieci milioni di "followers" ma sempre meno credenti. A me sembra che tutto questo non faccia altro che concorrere ad aumentare la confusione delle idee e dei contenuti degli esseri umani. Qualcuno a questo punto mi obietterà: ma tu perché lo usi e ne scrivi? Per la semplice ragione perché chi ne è fuori, non avrebbe saputo tutto questo che ho scritto, che ho letto e saputo nel corso di questi anni che l'ho usato.
Diversi decenni orsono il famoso massmediologo Marshall McLuhan scrisse una frase anticipatrice. Egli disse: "The medium is the message" - "il mezzo è il messaggio". Cosa intendeva esattamente dire? In breve, e in maniera molto soggettiva, significa che non tutti "sanno" quello che fanno, scrivendo e comunicando tanto su FB che su tutti gli altri "social media". Confondono il mezzo con il messaggio, non sanno ciò che dicono. Aumentano soltanto la "liquidità" di quel calderone di cui ho parlato innanzi, fatto di tutte quelle parole che ho riportato. Si alimentano di esse e con esse si confondono, identificandosi.
Insomma, si comportano come quegli oratori politici e non che sono in grado di proseguire per ore ed ore nella loro incontenibile logorrea fatta di parole prive di idee. Ne volete un esempio? Avete mai sentito parlare di "cittadinanza attiva", "cittadino attivo", "opinione pubblica", "coscienza civile", "coscienza democratica", "impegno civico" e via discorrendo. Tutte espressioni, pregnanti di impegno, ma soltanto fumo indiano per annerire le praterie dell'esistenza e continuare a confondere le poche idee che i cittadini riescono ad avere navigando in questa palude esistenziale. Continua così quella che qualcuno di non poco conto definì "la strage delle illusioni".
Proprio in questi giorni ho riletto lo Zibaldone di Leopardi, in versione inglese. Finalmente tradotto dopo tre secoli. Sono in buona compagnia su quanto si possa pensare sugli uomini ed in particolare sugli Italiani, del nord, del sud e del centro, antichi, moderni o contemporanei. La strage delle illusioni continua, lo scrisse Giacomo. Lui, ahimè! Non sapeva sorridere. Io con gli anni, ho imparato a sorridere, tanto di me stesso che degli altri. Unico modo per non finire nella "strage" fatta di parole e idee che gli uomini si ostinano ad affidare ai "media" senza sapere usarli.
Displaying 1 - 29 of 29 reviews