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Scribble Orca
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Scribble Orca
is currently reading
progress:
(page 123 of 434)
"He rambled on. Between narcoleptic fits, Gabriel vaguely heard, as a hum, Mugrabin’s story as it unrolled its slimy meanderings. As was to be expected from a man with a supposedly long habit of clandestinity and false identity, his outpouring soon took on the proportions of a flood." — Aug 31, 2013 07:55AM
"He rambled on. Between narcoleptic fits, Gabriel vaguely heard, as a hum, Mugrabin’s story as it unrolled its slimy meanderings. As was to be expected from a man with a supposedly long habit of clandestinity and false identity, his outpouring soon took on the proportions of a flood." — Aug 31, 2013 07:55AM
Scribble Orca
is currently reading
Reading for the 2nd time
Scribble Orca said:
"
Off-the-cuff and unjustly doing:
"Cloaked in a residue of fog that neither dissipated nor densened into rain, somewhat defeated because of a torpid sirocco more atmosphere than wind, dozing in a past grand and splendid and surely also immodest verging ...more "
progress:
(34%)
"Lui perde la voglia di gridare. Certo che non lo ama. Come potrebbe amare, lei, un uomo simile. Sta con lui per onesta convenienza, diciamo, e può anche essere che la figlia sia nata per una convenienza altrettanto onesta. Lei ha il dono di rendere onesto tutto ciò che fa, ma lui non si sente più d’aggredirla, per questo, visto che l’onestà non le risparmia certo giuste dosi di umiliazione e sofferenza." — May 11, 2013 08:20AM
"Lui perde la voglia di gridare. Certo che non lo ama. Come potrebbe amare, lei, un uomo simile. Sta con lui per onesta convenienza, diciamo, e può anche essere che la figlia sia nata per una convenienza altrettanto onesta. Lei ha il dono di rendere onesto tutto ciò che fa, ma lui non si sente più d’aggredirla, per questo, visto che l’onestà non le risparmia certo giuste dosi di umiliazione e sofferenza." — May 11, 2013 08:20AM
Scribble Orca said:
"
update: Joyce' Finnegans Wake is given very interesting treatment in Verbivoracious Festschrift Volume Three: The SyllabusThe problem with Finn Egan[apostrophedie]s Splashy Fest-o-the-Dye Inn is muchly how there is to admire and lake, and how much to ...more "
progress:
(page 72 of 523)
"Eiskaffier said (Louigi’s, you know that man’s, brillant savourain): Mon foie, you wish to ave some homelette, yes, lady? Good, mein leber! Your hegg he must break himself. See, I crack, so, he sit in the poele, umbedimbt! A perspirer (over sixty) who was keeping up his tennises panted he kne ho har twa to clect infamatios but a diffpair flannels climb wall and trespassing on doorbell." — May 11, 2013 08:10AM
"Eiskaffier said (Louigi’s, you know that man’s, brillant savourain): Mon foie, you wish to ave some homelette, yes, lady? Good, mein leber! Your hegg he must break himself. See, I crack, so, he sit in the poele, umbedimbt! A perspirer (over sixty) who was keeping up his tennises panted he kne ho har twa to clect infamatios but a diffpair flannels climb wall and trespassing on doorbell." — May 11, 2013 08:10AM
“There is only one thing that you write for yourself, and that is a shopping list.”
― On Literature
― On Literature
“If you need something to worship, then worship life - all life, every last crawling bit of it! We're all in this beauty together!”
― Dune Messiah
― Dune Messiah
“I’m really tired of people saying what is lost in translation. Look at what you gain. You gain three universes worth of books. It’s worth it to lose something in translation, if you can get a hundred more texts that are going to change your life.”
―
―
“In general, I would think that at present prose writers are much in advance of the poets. In the old days, I read more poetry than prose, but now it is in prose where you find things being put together well, where there is great ambition, and equal talent. Poets have gotten so careless, it is a disgrace. You can’t pick up a page. All the words slide off.”
―
―
“[On Chopin's Preludes:]
"His genius was filled with the mysterious sounds of nature, but transformed into sublime equivalents in musical thought, and not through slavish imitation of the actual external sounds. His composition of that night was surely filled with raindrops, resounding clearly on the tiles of the Charterhouse, but it had been transformed in his imagination and in his song into tears falling upon his heart from the sky. ... The gift of Chopin is [the expression of] the deepest and fullest feelings and emotions that have ever existed. He made a single instrument speak a language of infinity. He could often sum up, in ten lines that a child could play, poems of a boundless exaltation, dramas of unequalled power.”
― Story of My Life: The Autobiography of George Sand
"His genius was filled with the mysterious sounds of nature, but transformed into sublime equivalents in musical thought, and not through slavish imitation of the actual external sounds. His composition of that night was surely filled with raindrops, resounding clearly on the tiles of the Charterhouse, but it had been transformed in his imagination and in his song into tears falling upon his heart from the sky. ... The gift of Chopin is [the expression of] the deepest and fullest feelings and emotions that have ever existed. He made a single instrument speak a language of infinity. He could often sum up, in ten lines that a child could play, poems of a boundless exaltation, dramas of unequalled power.”
― Story of My Life: The Autobiography of George Sand
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