ellauri142.html on line 383: Tiivistäen voi todeta et nää itisläisten viisut on samaa schaibaa kuin muidenkin pelästyneiden apinoiden. Nääkin järvät unohtaa että muutoxettomuus on yxinomaan tylsää, se ei eroa kuolemasta juuri mitenkään. Toi jälleensyntymisturina ei oikeastaan muuta tarkoita kun että geenit jatkaa kulkuaan. Sillä eihän noi uudet avataarit muuta muista edellisistä kuin mitä on jäänyt muistiin geeneihin. Ja parempi niin. Muuten alkaiskin vähitellen kylästyttää niinkö Sibyllaa: apothanein thelo, nää on jo nähty, taisit kertoa, pankaa bogin nimessä jo pullon korkki kii.
ellauri299.html on line 508: Cowley ja Russell olivat väärässä. Ikuisen elämän lisäxi pitää muistaa erixeen pyytää ikuista nuoruutta ettei käy kuin Sibyllalle. T. S. Eliot Jätemaa intro: 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 have seen with my own eyes the Sibyl hanging in a jar, and when the boys asked her " What do you want? " She answered, " I want to die. "] —Petronius, Satyricon
xxx/ellauri120.html on line 353: In Petronius's Satyricon, Trimalchus (pro Trimalchio) finds her shriveled to a tiny lump and kept alive in a jar. He asks her, "Sibyl, what do you want?" (in Greek, Σίβυλλα τί θέλεις; pronounced more or less "Sibylla, ti theleis"). She replies, "I want to die" (in Greek, ἀποθανεῖν θέλω, pronounced "apothanein thelo"). I learned this, as you did, not from reading the Satyricon, but from beating T S Eliot's The Waste Land to death in my English Lit class.
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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