ellauri069.html on line 226: Frisch, Fromm, Frölich, Frei
ellauri096.html on line 674: This meant that, because the parameters of the models were not structural, i.e. not indifferent to policy, they would necessarily change whenever policy was changed. The so-called Lucas critique followed similar criticism undertaken earlier by Ragnar Frisch, in his critique of Jan Tinbergen's 1939 book Statistical Testing of Business-Cycle Theories, where Frisch accused Tinbergen of not having discovered autonomous relations, but "coflux" relations,[10] and by Jacob Marschak, in his 1953 contribution to the Cowles Commission Monograph, where he submitted that
ellauri328.html on line 252: Frisch auf und sey nicht blöde, Piristy äläkä ole tökerö,
ellauri360.html on line 159: Max Frisch : Stiller (Minä olen) ei Stiller) (CHECK)
xxx/ellauri120.html on line 359: "Nam Sibyllam quidem Cumis ego ipse oculis meis vidi in ampulla pendere, et cum illi pueri dicerent: Sibylla ti theleis; respondebat illa: apothanein thelo." I. THE BURIAL OF THE DEAD April is the cruellest month, breeding Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing Memory and desire, stirring Dull roots with spring rain. Winter kept us warm, covering Earth in forgetful snow, feeding A little life with dried tubers. Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade, And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten, 10 And drank coffee, and talked for an hour. Bin gar keine Russin, stamm’ aus Litauen, echt deutsch. And when we were children, staying at the archduke’s, My cousin’s, he took me out on a sled, And I was frightened. He said, Marie, Marie, hold on tight. And down we went. In the mountains, there you feel free. I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter. What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man, 20 You cannot say, or guess, for you know only A heap of broken images, where the sun beats, And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief, And the dry stone no sound of water. Only There is shadow under this red rock, (Come in under the shadow of this red rock), And I will show you something different from either Your shadow at morning striding behind you Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you; I will show you fear in a handful of dust. 30 Frisch weht der Wind Der Heimat zu Mein Irisch Kind, Wo weilest du? "You gave me hyacinths first a year ago; "They called me the hyacinth girl." - Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden, Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither Living nor dead, and I knew nothing, 40 Looking into the heart of light, the silence. Öd’ und leer das Meer.
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