ellauri047.html on line 1022: Kalle Soraisen muistan 70-luvulta Suomen filosofisen yhdistyxen kokouxista, jossa se pyysi puheenvuoroja jos aihe sivusi Kierkegaardia. Jos se koski McTaggartia, sensedatoja ja tämyyxiä (haecceitas), asiantuntija oli S. Albert Kivinen. Ilkka Niiniluoto johti puhetta hillitysti köhien. Lande häiriköi.
ellauri095.html on line 57: The words “here/Buckle” which open the sestet mean “here in my heart,” therefore, as well as here in the bird and here in Jesus. Hopkins’s heart-in-hiding, Christ’s prey, sensed Him diving down to seize it for his own. Just as the bird buckled its wings together and thereby buckled its “brute beauty” and “valour”and capacity to “act,” so the speaker responds by buckling together all his considerable talents and renewing his commitment to the imitation of Christ in order to buckle down, buckle to, in serious preparation for the combat, the grappling, the buckling with the enemy. As Paul said, “Put on the whole armour of God, that ye may be able to stand against the wiles of the Devil.”
ellauri109.html on line 531: Roth was not an academic prodigy; his teachers sensed his intelligence but they were not overawed by his classroom performance.
ellauri156.html on line 412: I should also add that Joab is already being drawn into the conspiracy. Joab obeys David's command to send Uriah, and my guess is that Joab knows something is up. He may even have heard about David's liaison with Bathsheba. When he sends Uriah to Jerusalem, he has to give him some mission, some task to perform. Joab and Uriah may have sensed that this was no “mission impossible” (as you would give a mighty warrior), but that is a “mission incredible.” In any case, the web of deceit and deception is already being woven, and more people are being drawn into the conspiracy. Wow, this is prime material for a soap opera. Maybe there already is one, must check. OF COURSE there is:
xxx/ellauri125.html on line 428: From the start, critics complained about the ostensible sameness of Roth’s books, their narcissism and narrowness—or, as he himself put it, comparing his own work to his father’s conversation, “Family, family, family, Newark, Newark, Newark, Jew, Jew, Jew.” Over time, he took on vast themes—love, lust, loneliness, marriage, masculinity, ambition, community, solitude, loyalty, betrayal, patriotism, rebellion, piety, disgrace, the body, the imagination, American history, mortality, the relentless mistakes of life—and he did so in a variety of forms: comedy, parody, romance, conventional narrative, postmodernism, autofiction. In each performance of a self, Roth captured the same sound and consciousness. in nearly fifty years of reading him I’ve never been more bored. I got to know Roth in the nineteen-nineties, when I interviewed him for this magazine around the time he published “The Human Stain.” To be in his presence was an exhilarating, though hardly relaxing, experience. He was unnervingly present, a condor on a branch, unblinking, alive to everything: the best detail in your story, the slackest points in your argument. His intelligence was immense, his performances and imitations mildly funny. “He who is loved by his parents is a conquistador,” Roth used to say, and he was adored by his parents, though both could be daunting to the young Philip. Herman Roth sold insurance; Bess ruled the family’s modest house, on Summit Avenue, in a neighborhood of European Jewish immigrants, their children and grandchildren. There was little money, very few books. Roth was not an academic prodigy; his teachers sensed his street intelligence but they were not overawed by his classroom performance. Roth learned to write through imitation. His first published story, “The Day It Snowed,” was so thoroughly Truman Capote that, he later remarked, he made “Capote look like a longshoreman.”
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