Onur Sümer
@Onur_Sumer
İngiliz Dili ve Edebiyatı
İzmit
İzmit, 9 Mayıs
188 okur puanı
Haziran 2018 tarihinde katıldı
Şu anda okuduğu kitaplar
The sky lies flat down the slope, upon the secret clumps. Beyond the hill sheet-lightning stains upward and fades. The dead air shapes the dead earth in the dead darkness, further away than seeing shapes the dead earth. It lies dead and warm upon me, touching me naked through my clothes. I said You don't know what worry is. I don't know what it is. I don't know whether I am worrying or not. Whether I can or not. I don't know whether I can cry or not. I don't know whether I have tried to or not. I feel like a wet seed wild in the hot blind earth.
A whole sequence of new thoughts, hopeless but mournfully pleasant, rose in his soul in connexion with that tree. During this journey he, as it were, considered his life afresh and arrived at his old conclusion, restful in its hopelessness: that it was not for him to begin anything anew – but that he must live out his life, content to do no harm, and not disturbing himself or desiring anything.
When a child first catches adults out —when it first walks into his grave little head that adults do not always have divine intelligence, that their judgments are not always wise, their thinking true, their sentences just — his world falls into panic desolation. The gods are fallen and all safety gone. And there is one sure thing about the fall of gods: they do not fall a little; they crash and shatter or sink deeply into green muck. It is a tedious job to build them up again; they never quite shine. And the child's world is never quite whole again. It is an aching kind of growing.
"As a heron looks contemptuously over shallow ponds, with head thrown back: so do I look over the swarm of colourless little waves and wills and souls."
The human earth became to me a cave, its chest caved in, everything living became to me human decay and bones and mouldering past.
My sighs sat upon all the graves of man and could no longer rise; my sighs and questions croaked and choked and gnawed and wailed by day and night:
"Alas, man recurs eternally! The little man recurs eternally!"
I had seen them both naked, the greatest man and the smallest man: all too similar to one another, even the greatest all too human!
The greatest all too small! - that was my disgust at man! And eternal recurrence even for the smallest! that was my disgust at all existence!