Dreamed of maman again. She was telling me—O cruelty!—that I didn’t really love her. But I took it calmly, because I was so sure it wasn’t true.
The idea that death would be a kind of sleep. But it would be horrible if we had to dream eternally.
(And this morning, her birthday. I always gave her a rose. Bought two at the little market of Mers Sultan and put them on my desk)
Disappointment of various places and trips. Not really comfortable anywhere. Very soon, this cry: I want to go back! (but where? since she is no longer anywhere, who was once where I could go back). I am seeking my place. Sitio.
Roland BarthesMourning. At the death of the loved being, acute phase of narcissism: one emerges from sickness, from servitude. Then, gradually, freedom takes on a leaden hue, desolation settles in, narcissism gives way to a sad egoism, an absence of generosity.
Roland BarthesTags: loss mourning isolation grief narcissism egoism
I ask for nothing but to live in my suffering.
Roland BarthesSuffering is a form of egoism.
I speak only of myself. I am not talking about her, saying what she was, making an overwhelming portrait (like the one Gide made of Madeleine).
(Yet: everything is true: the sweetness, the energy, the nobility, the kindness.)
The grim
egoism (egotism)
of mourning
of suffering
Suicide
How would I know I don’t suffer any more, if I’m dead?
اللسان إذن ما قبل الأدب والأسلوب هو مابعده تقريبا فالصور والإلقاء تولد من جسم الكاتب وماضيه لتغدو شيئا فشيئا آليات فنه ذاتها
Roland Barthesالفن لا شئ سوى الكمال في تقليد الواقع
Roland Barthesفي الحالة الراهنة للتاريخ لا يمكن لأي كتابة سياسية إلا أن تكون دعما لعالم بوليسي كما أن أي كتابة ثقافية لا يمكنها إلا أن تؤسس عالما يتجاوز الأدب ولا تملك الجرأة على ذكر إسمه
Roland Barthes« first previous
Page 16 of 19.
next last »
Data privacy
Imprint
Contact
Diese Website verwendet Cookies, um Ihnen die bestmögliche Funktionalität bieten zu können.