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Quote by Michael Corthell, Waldo Solomon

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Michael Corthell, Waldo Solomon

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“He surrendered utterly to the power that to him seemed the highest on earth, to whose service he felt called, which promised him elevation and honours: the power of intellect, the power of the Word, that lords it with a smile over the unconscious and inarticulate. To this power he surrendered with all the passion of youth, and it rewarded him with all it had to give, taking from him inexorably, in return, all that it is wont to take. It sharpened his eyes and made him see through the large words which puff out the bosoms of mankind; it opened for him men’s souls and his own, made him clairvoyant, showed him the inwardness of the world and the ultimate behind men’s words and deeds. And all that he saw could be put in two words: the comedy and the tragedy of life. And then, with knowledge, its torment and its arrogance, came solitude; because he could not endure the blithe and innocent with their darkened understanding, while they in turn were troubled by the sign on his brow. But his love of the word kept growing sweeter and sweeter, and his love of form; for he used to say (and had already said it in writing) that knowledge of the soul would unfailingly make us melancholy if the pleasures of expression did not keep us alert and of good cheer.”

WritingArtistCreativitySolitudeIntellectTormentWordLogos
Book:Death in Venice and Other Stories
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“Aku tak tahu mengapa hari-hari ini aku begitu sering tersentuh. Oleh pohon, oleh, burung, air sungai. Entah mengapa, hal-hal kecil yang memikat yang pernah diajarkan kepada kita, ketika kita mendekat kepada mereka, mereka tampak begitu besar, nyaris suci. Memang melo-dramatis rasanya mengatakan ini semua tetapi aku tak mengada-ada. Kami tahu aku bukan orang yang religius; dulu aku malah suka menegaskan diri bahwa aku tak beragama justru agar para sejawatku tak mengusikku. Tetapi akhir-akhir ini aku merasa, berteduh dalam kesendirian juga pengalaman religius.”

SolitudeReligion Spirituality
Book:The Question of Red
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“And even if you were in some prison the walls of which let none of the sounds of the world come to your senses—would you not then still have your childhood, that precious, kingly possession, that treasure-house of memories? Turn your attention thither. Try to raise the submerged sensations of that ample past; your personality will grow more firm, your solitude will widen and will become a dusky dwelling past which the noise of others goes by far away.”

MemoriesSolitude
Book:Letters to a Young Poet
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