Thursday, March 26
A virginity which, in its solitude, faced with the transparency of a commensurate gaze, has itself been as it were fragmented into its component whitenesses, one upon the next, the wedding — proofs of the Idea.
-- Stephane Mallarmé "Mystery in Literature"
Tr. Mary Ann Caws
Mallarmé in Prose
Posted by rb at 3/26/2009
Friday, March 20
The soul has that measureless pride which consists in never acknowledging any lessons but its own. But it has sympathy as measureless as its pride and the one balances the other and neither can stretch too far while it stretches in company with the other. The inmost secrets of art sleep with the twain.
-- Walt Whitman, preface Leaves of Grass 1855
Posted by rb at 3/20/2009