year 02; sem 01; literature entry week 11
Oscar Wilde
oh my. SOOOO MANY GOOD QUOTES
a man before his time, who acted in the purest form of humanity. a man who questioned everything but restricted nothing
i ABSOLUTELY adored his speech whilst on trial:
--"The Love that dare not speak its name" in this century is such a great affection of an elder for a younger man as there was between David and Jonathan, such as Plato made the very basis of his philosophy, and such as you find in the sonnets of Michelangelo and Shakespeare. It is that deep, spiritual affection that is as pure as it is perfect. It dictates and pervades great works of art like those of Shakespeare and Michelangelo, and those two letters of mine, such as they are. It is in this century misunderstood, so much misunderstood that it may be described as the "Love that dare not speak its name," and on account of it I am placed where I am now. It is beautiful, it is fine, it is the noblest form of affection. There is nothing unnatural about it. It is intellectual, and it repeatedly exists between an elder and a younger man, when the elder man has intellect, and the younger man has all the joy, hope and glamour of life before him. That it should be so the world does not understand. The world mocks at it and sometimes puts one in the pillory for it.
--Ah, that, you will see, is the mockery of the other love, love which is jealous of friendship and says to it, "You should not interfere."
how BEAUTIFUL and INTELLECTUAL did that just sound! See that it is exactly what i meant by questioned everything but restricted nothing. Wilde questions societies through out history, yet in this topic of love he does not limit love like society does. Although the Victorian society questioned Wilde's "love", the restricted love to what suited them in terms of what is "natural" and restricted to their time era of closed-mindedness. Wilde attempts to open their mind, unlocking societies ignorance of historical figures that participated in this "unnatural love".
Ironically a Romantic before his time in the Victorian age.
I should say that one man's poetry is another man's poison!
What a brilliant remake of "one man's junk is another man's treasure".
Poison .
We completely let this "posion" seep into our minds and bodies, straight to the very heart. In fact, this poison is so infectious that we search deeper into the tect to search for more poison to feed us.
So infectious that we walk away from the text continually thinking about what we have just read. We take it on board our daily lives of entrapment.
For me it's not so much as just poetry. But all forms of art. Particularly interesting is literature.
FICTION!
How easy it is for us to enter a textual world.
Immersed in the depth of the texts.
We gain immaginary friends and enemies.
We know their secrets, thoughts and actions.
These words are alive.
These words erase everything around me,
escaped and trapped between thin paper pages.
Flicker of pages lays me to sleep.
down to sleep and sleep to dream of the words i read.
It is like it is forever with me until it dies at the words
"THE END".
Refusing to turn the last paper page,
you slowly slip from my thoughts,
my dreams,
my life
as the voice of your words become more distant.
It was good while i had you.
marie.