Annelies Marie Frank (12 June 1929 – c. February or March 1945– aged 15) 🌱
https://youtu.be/ond6r5pafjw
https://youtu.be/ond6r5pafjw
YouTube
Who Was Anne Frank? | History
Though German Jewish teenager Anne Frank did not survive the Holocaust, the memoirs from her two years in Episode 1live on forever. #HistoryChannel
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Newsletter: https://www.history.com/newsletter…
Subscribe for more HISTORY:
http://histv.co/SubscribeHistoryYT
Newsletter: https://www.history.com/newsletter…
Wandering and Pondering
‘A Light Exists in Spring’ by Emily Dickinson 🌱 A Light exists in Spring Not present on the Year At any other period – When March is scarcely here A Color stands abroad On Solitary Fields That Science cannot overtake But Human Nature feels. It waits upon…
'I watched the Moon around the House' by Emily Dickinson 🌱
I watched the Moon around the House
Until upon a Pane—
She stopped—a Traveller’s privilege—for Rest—
And there upon
I gazed—as at a Stranger—
The Lady in the Town
Doth think no incivility
To lift her Glass—upon—
But never Stranger justified
The Curiosity
Like Mine—for not a Foot—nor Hand—
Nor Formula—had she—
But like a Head—a Guillotine
Slid carelessly away—
Did independent, Amber—
Sustain her in the sky—
Or like a Stemless Flower—
Upheld in rolling Air
By finer Gravitations—
Than bind Philosopher—
No Hunger—had she—nor an Inn—
Her Toilette—to suffice—
Nor Avocation—nor Concern
For little Mysteries
As harass us—like Life—and Death—
And Afterwards—or Nay—
But seemed engrossed to Absolute—
With Shining—and the Sky—
The privilege to scrutinize
Was scarce upon my Eyes
When, with a Silver practise—
She vaulted out of Gaze—
And next—I met her on a Cloud—
Myself too far below
To follow her superior Road—
Or its advantage—Blue—
#augustfullmoon #supermoon
I watched the Moon around the House
Until upon a Pane—
She stopped—a Traveller’s privilege—for Rest—
And there upon
I gazed—as at a Stranger—
The Lady in the Town
Doth think no incivility
To lift her Glass—upon—
But never Stranger justified
The Curiosity
Like Mine—for not a Foot—nor Hand—
Nor Formula—had she—
But like a Head—a Guillotine
Slid carelessly away—
Did independent, Amber—
Sustain her in the sky—
Or like a Stemless Flower—
Upheld in rolling Air
By finer Gravitations—
Than bind Philosopher—
No Hunger—had she—nor an Inn—
Her Toilette—to suffice—
Nor Avocation—nor Concern
For little Mysteries
As harass us—like Life—and Death—
And Afterwards—or Nay—
But seemed engrossed to Absolute—
With Shining—and the Sky—
The privilege to scrutinize
Was scarce upon my Eyes
When, with a Silver practise—
She vaulted out of Gaze—
And next—I met her on a Cloud—
Myself too far below
To follow her superior Road—
Or its advantage—Blue—
#augustfullmoon #supermoon
Wandering and Pondering
1. Don't start out writing novels. They take too long. Begin your writing life instead by cranking out "a hell of a lot of short stories," as many as one per week. Take a year to do it; he claims that it simply isn't possible to write 52 bad short stories…
YouTube
NEA Big Read: Meet Ray Bradbury
Ray Bradbury's Fahrenheit 451 remains one of the most iconic works in American Literature. At home with his cats and collectables, Mr. Bradbury talks about how the book came into being and what has sustained his extraordinary career.
Jorge Francisco Isidoro Luis Borges Acevedo (24 August 1899 – 14 June 1986) 🌱
https://youtu.be/_uRZGkMpyH8
https://youtu.be/_uRZGkMpyH8
YouTube
Borges Interview - English subtitles - YouTube.m4v
'Limits' by Jorge Luis Borges 🌱
Of all the streets that blur in to the sunset,
There must be one (which, I am not sure)
That I by now have walked for the last time
Without guessing it, the pawn of that Someone
Who fixes in advance omnipotent laws,
Sets up a secret and unwavering scale
for all the shadows, dreams, and forms
Woven into the texture of this life.
If there is a limit to all things and a measure
And a last time and nothing more and forgetfulness,
Who will tell us to whom in this house
We without knowing it have said farewell?
Through the dawning window night withdraws
And among the stacked books which throw
Irregular shadows on the dim table,
There must be one which I will never read.
There is in the South more than one worn gate,
With its cement urns and planted cactus,
Which is already forbidden to my entry,
Inaccessible, as in a lithograph.
There is a door you have closed forever
And some mirror is expecting you in vain;
To you the crossroads seem wide open,
Yet watching you, four-faced, is a Janus.
There is among all your memories one
Which has now been lost beyond recall.
You will not be seen going down to that fountain
Neither by white sun nor by yellow moon.
You will never recapture what the Persian
Said in his language woven with birds and roses,
When, in the sunset, before the light disperses,
You wish to give words to unforgettable things.
And the steadily flowing Rhone and the lake,
All that vast yesterday over which today I bend?
They will be as lost as Carthage,
Scourged by the Romans with fire and salt.
At dawn I seem to hear the turbulent
Murmur of crowds milling and fading away;
They are all I have been loved by, forgotten by;
Space, time, and Borges now are leaving me.
Of all the streets that blur in to the sunset,
There must be one (which, I am not sure)
That I by now have walked for the last time
Without guessing it, the pawn of that Someone
Who fixes in advance omnipotent laws,
Sets up a secret and unwavering scale
for all the shadows, dreams, and forms
Woven into the texture of this life.
If there is a limit to all things and a measure
And a last time and nothing more and forgetfulness,
Who will tell us to whom in this house
We without knowing it have said farewell?
Through the dawning window night withdraws
And among the stacked books which throw
Irregular shadows on the dim table,
There must be one which I will never read.
There is in the South more than one worn gate,
With its cement urns and planted cactus,
Which is already forbidden to my entry,
Inaccessible, as in a lithograph.
There is a door you have closed forever
And some mirror is expecting you in vain;
To you the crossroads seem wide open,
Yet watching you, four-faced, is a Janus.
There is among all your memories one
Which has now been lost beyond recall.
You will not be seen going down to that fountain
Neither by white sun nor by yellow moon.
You will never recapture what the Persian
Said in his language woven with birds and roses,
When, in the sunset, before the light disperses,
You wish to give words to unforgettable things.
And the steadily flowing Rhone and the lake,
All that vast yesterday over which today I bend?
They will be as lost as Carthage,
Scourged by the Romans with fire and salt.
At dawn I seem to hear the turbulent
Murmur of crowds milling and fading away;
They are all I have been loved by, forgotten by;
Space, time, and Borges now are leaving me.
Wandering and Pondering
James Augustine Aloysius Joyce (2 February 1882 – 13 January 1941) 🌱 "On this day in history, James Joyce's novel Ulysses was published in its entirety in Paris, on Joyce's 40th birthday. The book was banned in the United States for almost 13 years after…
YouTube
Sylvia Beach interview on James Joyce and Shakespeare & Company (1962)
Sylvia Beach was an American-born bookseller and publisher who lived most of her life in Paris. She is known for her Paris bookstore, Shakespeare and Company, where she published James Joyce's book, Ulysses , and encouraged the publication and sold copies…
"The Nobel Prize in Literature for 2022 is awarded to the French author Annie Eranux “for the courage and clinical acuity with which she uncovers the roots, estrangements and collective restraints of personal memory”.
In her writing, Ernaux consistently and from different angles, examines a life marked by strong disparities regarding gender, language and class. Her path to authorship was long and arduous." 🌱
https://www.nobelprize.org/
In her writing, Ernaux consistently and from different angles, examines a life marked by strong disparities regarding gender, language and class. Her path to authorship was long and arduous." 🌱
https://www.nobelprize.org/
NobelPrize.org
The official website of the Nobel Prize - NobelPrize.org
The Nobel Prize rewards science, humanism and peace efforts. This is one of the central concepts in the will of Alfred Nobel, and it also permeates the outreach activities that have been developed for the purpose of engaging, inspiring and spreading knowledge…
"Ali Smith (born 24 August 1962) is a Scottish author, playwright, academic and journalist. Sebastian Barry described her in 2016 as "Scotland's Nobel laureate-in-waiting"." 🌱
https://youtu.be/-wCU2SaKDts
https://youtu.be/-wCU2SaKDts
YouTube
Costa Book Awards 2014 - Novel Category Winner
Clarice Lispector (born Chaya Pinkhasivna Lispector (December 10, 1920 – December 9, 1977) 🌱
https://youtu.be/w1zwGLBpULs
https://youtu.be/w1zwGLBpULs
YouTube
Interview with Clarice Lispector - São Paulo, 1977 (English subtitles)
This interview of Clarice Lispector from February 1977 is the only footage we have of her.
She had arrived at the studios of TV Cultura in São Paulo to participate in a program about film, when the director of the station took the opportunity to ask her…
She had arrived at the studios of TV Cultura in São Paulo to participate in a program about film, when the director of the station took the opportunity to ask her…
"Naguib Mahfouz Abdelaziz Ibrahim Ahmed Al-Basha (11 December 1911 – 30 August 2006) was an Egyptian writer who won the 1988 Nobel Prize in Literature. Mahfouz is regarded as one of the first contemporary writers in Arabic Literature, along with Taha Hussein, to explore themes of existentialism." 🌱
https://youtu.be/MgeIhrDvfYg
https://youtu.be/MgeIhrDvfYg
Wandering and Pondering
The Nobel Prize in Literature 2020 was awarded to Louise Glück "for her unmistakable poetic voice that with austere beauty makes individual existence universal." 🌱 https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Louise_Gl%C3%BCck
"There is a moment after you move your eye away
when you forget where you are
because you’ve been living, it seems,
somewhere else, in the silence of the night sky.
You’ve stopped being here in the world.
You’re in a different place,
a place where human life has no meaning.
You’re not a creature in body.
You exist as the stars exist,
participating in their stillness, their immensity."
Louise Gluck (April 22, 1943, October 13, 2023) 🖤
when you forget where you are
because you’ve been living, it seems,
somewhere else, in the silence of the night sky.
You’ve stopped being here in the world.
You’re in a different place,
a place where human life has no meaning.
You’re not a creature in body.
You exist as the stars exist,
participating in their stillness, their immensity."
Louise Gluck (April 22, 1943, October 13, 2023) 🖤
sonder (uncountable) (neologism) The profound feeling of realizing that everyone, including strangers passing in the street, has a life as complex as one's own, which they are constantly living despite one's personal lack of awareness of it. 🌱
https://www.google.com/amp/s/www.cbc.ca/amp/1.6321644
https://www.google.com/amp/s/www.cbc.ca/amp/1.6321644
Fall, Leaves, Fall
"Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away;
Lengthen night and shorten day;
Every leaf speaks bliss to me
Fluttering from the autumn tree.
I shall smile when wreaths of snow
Blossom where the rose should grow;
I shall sing when night’s decay
Ushers in a drearier day." 🌱
Emily Brontë
"Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away;
Lengthen night and shorten day;
Every leaf speaks bliss to me
Fluttering from the autumn tree.
I shall smile when wreaths of snow
Blossom where the rose should grow;
I shall sing when night’s decay
Ushers in a drearier day." 🌱
Emily Brontë