St. Desideratus

Carrion Comfort by Gerard Manley Hopkins

Gerard Manley Hopkins (1844–89). Poems. 1918.

40. (Carrion Comfort)


NOT, I’ll not, carrion comfort, Despair, not feast on thee;
Not untwist—slack they may be—these last strands of man
In me ór, most weary, cry I can no more. I can;
Can something, hope, wish day come, not choose not to be.
But ah, but O thou terrible, why wouldst thou rude on me 5
Thy wring-world right foot rock? lay a lionlimb against me? scan
With darksome devouring eyes my bruisèd bones? and fan,
O in turns of tempest, me heaped there; me frantic to avoid thee and flee?

Why? That my chaff might fly; my grain lie, sheer and clear.
Nay in all that toil, that coil, since (seems) I kissed the rod, 10
Hand rather, my heart lo! lapped strength, stole joy, would laugh, chéer.
Cheer whom though? the hero whose heaven-handling flung me, fóot tród
Me? or me that fought him? O which one? is it each one? That night, that year
Of now done darkness I wretch lay wrestling with (my God!) my God.

Unfaithful Wives

Unintentional Sin

Spectral Lovers by John Crowe Ransom

The Mind is An Enchanting Thing by Marianne Moore

The Mind is an Enchanting Thing
is an enchanted thing
like the glaze on a
katydid-wing
subdivided by sun
till the nettings are legion.
Like Giesking playing Scarltti;

like the apteryx-awl
as a beak, or the
kiwi's rain-shawl
of haired feathers, the mind
feeling its way as though blind,
walks along with its eyes on the ground.

It has memory's ear
that can hear without
having to hear.
Like the gyroscope's fall,
truly equivocal
because trued by regnant certainty,

it is a power of strong enchantment. It
is like the dove-
neck animated by
sun; it is memory's eye;
it's conscientious inconsistency.

It tears off the veil; tears
the temptation, the
mist the heart wears,
from its eyes - if the heart
has a face; it takes apart
dejection. It's fire in the dove-neck's

iridescence; in the inconsistencies
of Scarlatti.
Unconfusion submits
its confusion to proof; it's
not a Herod's oath that cannot change.

Dying Debris by David Hart

Sonnet 21 by William Shakespeare

Sonnet 21 by William Shakespeare
O is it not with me as with that Muse
Stirred by a painted beauty to his verse,
Who heaven itself for ornament doth use
And every fair with his fair doth rehearse;
Making a couplement of proud compare
With sun and moon, with earth and sea's rich gems,
With April's first-born flowers, and all things rare
That heaven's airs in this huge rondure hems.
O let me, true in love, but truly write,
And then believe me, my love is as fair
As any mother's child, though not so bright
As those gold candles fixed in heaven's air:
Let them say more that like of hearsay well;
I will not praise that purpose not to sell.

Spectral Loversby John Crowe Ransom

By night they haunted a thicket of April mist,
Out of that black ground suddenly come to birth,
Else angels lost in each other and fallen on earth.
Lovers they knew they were, but why unclasped, unkissed?
Why should two lovers be frozen apart in fear?
And yet they were, they were.


Over the shredding of an April blossom
Scarcely her fingers touched him, quick with care,
Yet of evasions even she made a snare.
The heart was bold that clanged within her bosom,
The moment perfect, the time stopped for them,
Still her face turned from him.


Strong were the batteries of the April night
And the stealthy emanations of the field;
Should the walls of her prison undefended yield
And open her treasure to the first clamorous knight?
“This is the mad moon, and shall I surrender all?
If he but ask it I shall.”


And gesturing largely to the moon of Easter,
Mincing his steps and swishing the jubilant grass,
Beheading some field-flowers that had come to pass,
He had reduced his tributaries faster
Had not considerations pinched his heart
Unfitly for his art.


“Do I reel with the sap of April like a drunkard?
Blessed is he that taketh this richest of cities;
But it is so stainless the sack were a thousand pities.
This is that marble fortress not to be conquered,
Lest its white peace in the black flame turn to tinder
And an unutterable cinder.”


They passed me once in April, in the mist.
No other season is it when one walks and discovers
Two tall and wandering, like spectral lovers,
White in the season’s moon-gold and amethyst,
‘Who touch quick fingers fluttering like a bird
Whose songs shall never be heard.

Doctor's Office in Effingham, Illinois

The Guardian of Yosemite by David Hart

All Alone

Moi, Volant? par David Hart

Moi, Volant? par David Hart
Moi, volant aux nuages grises
Et blancs en haut legerement

Flottant dans le ciel faineant (lazy)
ave mon parapluei par-dessus (above)

Moi, quelquefois, je suis un sorte d'un
jouet joli (village idiot)

Une vie de temps en temps
Une fadaise fabuleusement (trifle)
Et Etonnamment (astonishingly)

J'ai l'intention de dechiffre (decipher)
Les mysteres, les mysteres de le ciel mystique

Maintenant les vents mugissement (bellowing)
Ne blasphemez pa la nature

Bien heureux sont les gens simples (blessed)
Bien seant (decent)
Et Bienveillant (kind)
Sont les fleurs bigarrures (motley)
Au-dessous (Under)
le grand ciel blueatre et blanchatre

Je blottis (snuggle) affectuesement et
Etourdissement (dizzily)
Avec Mes amours etincellement (sparkling)
Les nuages grimpants (climbing)
DHart2009USA

David Hart and Friend

Le Bonheur Des Uns par Jacques Prevert

Alice in Wonderland Photoshop Prints

Alice in Wonderland Photoshop Prints

Words by Hart

JE SUIS COMME JE SUIS

JE SUIS COMME JE SUIS
Jacques Prévert (Né à Neuilly-sur-Seine)

Je suis comme je suis
Je suis faite comme ça
Quand jai envie de rire
Oui je ris aux éclats
Jaime celui qui m'aime
Est-ce ma faute à moi
Si ce nest pas le même
Que jaime chaque fois
Je suis comme je suis
Je suis faite comme ça
Que voulez-vous de plus
Que voulez-vous de moi

Je suis faite pour plaire
Et ny puis rien changer
Mes talons sont trop hauts
Ma taille trop cambrée
Mes seins beaucoup trop durs
Et mes yeux trop cernés
Et puis après
Quest-ce que ça peut vous faire
Je suis comme je suis
Je plais à qui je plais
Quest-ce que ça peut vous faire

Ce qui mest arrivé
Oui jai aimé quelquun
Oui quelquun ma aimé
Comme les enfants qui saiment
Simplement savent aimer
Aimer aimer...
Pourquoi me questionner
Je suis là pour vous plaire
Et ny puis rien changer.

the idea of Crime and Punishment

Dostoevsky conceived the idea of Crime and Punishment in the summer of 1865, having lost all his money at the casino, unable to pay his bill or afford proper meals. At the time the author owed large sums of money to creditors, and he was trying to help the family of his brother Mikhail, who had died in early 1864. The work was originally conceived in terms that suggest Émile Zola. Projected under the title The Drunkards, it was to deal "with the present question of drunkness ... [in] all its ramifications, especially the picture of a family and the bringing up of children in these circumstance, etc., etc." Once Dostoevsky conceived Raskolnikov and his crime, this theme became ancillary, centering on the story of the Marmeladov family.[3]

Dostoevsky offered his story or novella (at the time Dostoevsky was not thinking of a novel[4]) to the publisher Mikhail Katkov. His monthly journal, The Russian Messenger, was a prestigious publication of its kind, and the outlet for both Ivan Turgenev and Leo Tolstoy, but Dostoevsky, having carried on quite bruising polemics with Katkov in early 1860s, had never published anything in its pages. Dostoevsky turned as a last resort to Katkov, and asked for an advance on a proposed contribution after all other appeals elsewhere failed.[5] In a letter to Katkov written in September 1865, Dostoevsky explained to him that the work was to be about a young man who yields to "certain strange, 'unfinished' ideas, floating in the air";[6] he had thus embarked on his plan to explore the moral and psychological dangers of the "radical" ideology.[7] In letters written in November 1865 an important conceptual change occurred: the "story" has become a "novel", and from here on all references to Crime and Punishment are to a novel.[8]

Dostoevsky had to race against time, in order to finish on time both The Gambler and Crime and Punishment. Anna Snitkina, a stenographer who would soon become his second wife, was a great help for Dostoevsky during this difficult task.[9] The first part of Crime and Punishment appeared in the January 1866 issue of The Russian Messenger, and the last one was published in December 1866.[10]

“ At the end of November much had been written and was ready; I burned it all; I can confess that now. I didn't like it myself. A new form, a new plan excited me, and I started all over again. ”
— Dostoevsky's letter to his friend Alexander Wrangel in February 1886[11]
In the complete edition of Dostoevsky's writings published in the Soviet Union, the editors reassembled and printed the notebooks that the writer kept while working on Crime and Punishment, in a sequence roughly corresponding to the various stages of composition. Because of these labors, there is now a fragmentary working draft of the story, or novella, as initially conceived, as well as two other versions of the text. These have been distinguished as the Wiesbaden edition, the Petersburg edition, and the final plan, involving the shift from a first-person narrator to the indigenous variety of third-person form invented by Dostoevsky.[12] The Wiesbaden edition concentrates entirely on the moral/physic reactions of the narrator after the murder. It coincides roughly with the story that Dostoevsky described in his letter to Katkov, and written in a form of a diary or journal, corresponds to what eventually became part II.[13]

Crime and Punishment (Russian: Преступление и наказание Prestupleniye i Nakazaniye)

Crime and Punishment (Russian: Преступление и наказание Prestupleniye i Nakazaniye) is a novel by Russian author Fyodor Dostoyevsky that was first published in the literary journal The Russian Messenger in twelve monthly installments in 1866.[1] It was later published in a single volume. It is the second of Dostoevsky's full-length novels after he returned from his exile in Siberia, and the first great novel of his mature period.[2]

Crime and Punishment focuses on the mental anguish and moral dilemmas of Rodion Romanovich Raskolnikov, an impoverished St. Petersburg ex-student who formulates and executes a plan to kill a hated, unscrupulous pawnbroker for her money, thereby solving his financial problems and at the same time, he argues, ridding the world of an evil, worthless parasite. Raskolnikov also strives to be an extraordinary being, similar to Napoleon, believing that murder is permissible in pursuit of a higher purpose.

Fyodor

sonnet 3 shakespeare hartistry

They Fought in Any Case by Ezra Pound

Fyodor Mikhaylovich Dostoyevsky

Fyodor Dostoyevsky
Fyodor Mikhaylovich Dostoyevsky (Russian: Фёдор Миха́йлович Достое́вский, Fёdor Mihajlovič Dosto'evskij, pronounced [ˈfʲodər mʲɪˈxajləvʲɪtɕ dəstɐˈjɛfskʲɪj] ( listen),[4] sometimes transliterated Dostoevsky, Dostoievsky, Dostojevskij, Dostoevski, Dostojevski or Dostoevskii (November 11, [O.S. October 30] 1821 – February 9, [O.S. January 28] 1881) was a Russian writer, essayist and philosopher, known for his novels Crime and Punishment and The Brothers Karamazov.

Dostoyevsky's literary output explores human psychology in the troubled political, social and spiritual context of 19th-century Russian society. Considered by many as a founder or precursor of 20th-century existentialism, his Notes from Underground (1864), written in the embittered voice of the anonymous "underground man", was called by Walter Kaufmann the "best overture for existentialism ever written."[5] A prominent figure in world literature, Dostoyevsky is often acknowledged by critics as one of the greatest psychologists in world literature.