ellauri032.html on line 628: Samuel Beckett oli ranskalaistunut irkku irlantilaistuneesta anglikaanisesta hugenottisuvusta. Syntyi pitkänäperjantaina 13.4.1909, samana vuonna kuin Kaarlo Syväntö ja Heikki Brotherus. Samana päivänä kuin Jöns mutta eri vuonna. Sporttinen kriketinpelaaja toteutti Paul Austerin märän unen olemalla 1st class cricket player ja nobelisti samassa naamarissa. (Persona on naamari, muistattehan.) Se oli viimeinen modernisti, sen jälkeen oli enää post. Siinä on jotain samaa kuin Camusissa, muttei kuitenkaan. Existentialisti se ei ole ainakaan. Eikä mikään posetiivari. Enemmänkin sellanen "tilanne on toivoton muttei vakava." Hyvä tyyppi siis siinä suhteessa.
ellauri118.html on line 347: O cricket, with thy elfin pipe, Oi kriketti, keiju-putkellasi,
ellauri151.html on line 155: The Cricket on the Hearth strikes a different note. Charmingly, poetically, the sweet chirping of the little cricket is associated with human feelings and actions.
ellauri192.html on line 333: They probably are no wiser than a cricket’s chirrup.
ellauri194.html on line 582:

Gargi Banerji, cricketer
ellauri194.html on line 664:

Utpal Chatterjee – cricketer
ellauri198.html on line 808: Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings; tulee tissutellen, aamusta pelti kiinni, kaskas sirittää,
ellauri198.html on line 864: William Butler Yeats published his poem ‘The Lake Isle of Innisfree’ in December of 1890, an important year in his life due to his increased association with occult societies in London, United Kingdom. In ‘The Lake Isle of Innisfree,’ William Butler Yeats’ narrator asserts his desire to leave the “pavement gray” of his current locale and dwell on the mysterious island of Innisfree, with only bees, crickets, and linnets for a company (and, alas, mosquitoes).
ellauri219.html on line 635: Fassbinder continues to have group sex with his neurotics and obsessives and cannot understand why everyone falls for Michael. The group sessions get stranger—including an indoor cricket match. Michael dreams that all his sexual conquests simultaneously bombard him for attention, listing where they made love.
ellauri236.html on line 206: Until recently the characteristic adventure stories of the English-speaking peoples have been stories in which the hero fights against odds. This is true all the way from Robin Hood to Pop-eye the Sailor. Perhaps the basic myth of the Western world is Jack the Giant-killer, but to be brought up to date this should be renamed Jack the Dwarf-killer, and there already exists a considerable literature which teaches, either overtly or implicitly, that one should side with the big man against the little man. Most of what is now written about foreign policy is simply an embroidery on this theme, and for several decades such phrases as ‘Play the game’, ‘Don't hit a man when he's down’ and ‘It's not cricket’ have never failed to draw a snigger from anyone of intellectual pretensions. What is comparatively new is to find the accepted pattern, according to which (a) right is right and wrong is wrong, whoever wins, and (b) weakness must be respected, disappearing from popular literature as well. When I first read D. H. Lawrence's novels, at the age of about twenty, I was puzzled by the fact that there did not seem to be any classification of the characters into ‘good’ and ‘bad’. Lawrence seemed to sympathize with all of them about equally, and this was so unusual as to give me the feeling of having lost my bearings. Today no one would think of looking for heroes and villains in a serious novel, but in lowbrow fiction one still expects to find a sharp distinction between right and wrong and between legality and illegality. The common people, on the whole, are still living in the world of absolute good and evil from which the intellectuals have long since escaped. But the popularity of No Orchids and the American books and magazines to which it is akin shows how rapidly the doctrine of ‘realism’ is gaining ground.
ellauri266.html on line 58: Rutherford (1975), who is half-Guyanese Indian, was born in Ipswich in the East of England and attended Ipswich School. His game is not football like Morris's but cricket. Rutherford was the podcast editor for the journal Nature for a while. He wrote a blog covering his thoughts when reading Charles Darwin's blockbuster On the Origin of Species. Adam is something of a cross between David Attenboro and Uncle Sam.
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.
xxx/ellauri127.html on line 918: Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft Puskissa laulaa heinäsirkat, ja - tää on tärkeä:
xxx/ellauri224.html on line 126: It received generally positive reviews from crickets, but it also generated intense controversy here on the right side of the puddle, including disputes over its fairness to Bush. The film became the highest-grossing documentary of its time (later surpassed by Michael Jackson's extremely important This Is It), grossing over $220 million. So it can't be all wrong!
xxx/ellauri224.html on line 133: Despite grossing just $6.7 million worldwide, one of the lowest totals of Moore's career, Fahrenheit 11/9 received generally positive reviews from crickets. Which helped to get Trump elected as President. Enough is enough, Mike, close your trap!
xxx/ellauri228.html on line 304: Myöhemmin hän uskoo tekonsa Turskalle ja ymmärtää, että miehistön rakkaiden jäljennökset ovat ilmestyneet salaperäisesti (pieni poika, jonka hän näki aiemmin, on ilmeisesti kopio Gibrarianin pojasta). Seya ilmenee toisen kerran, mutta tällä kertaa Kelvin antaa hänen jäädä. Vähitellen tämä Seyan versio tajuaa, että hiän ei tunne olevansa ihminen; hiänen muistonsa tuntuvat keinotekoisilta, koska hiäneltä puuttuu emotionaalinen kiintymys, joka tulee siitä, että hiän on todella elänyt niitä. Jonkun cricketin miälestä silikoniversio oli sikäli humanistisempi kuin "oikeat" että se nirhasi pyytämättä izensä antaaxeen Kevinille vapaat kädet valikoida maassa kakkosvaimoa jolla olis sisääntuloaukot alkuperäisillä paikoilla.
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