Beautiful Cynicism III

Someday, emerging at last from the violent insight
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100ème (+2) note!

Tuesday, 31 January 2006 | 20:33


Prenons une pause pour réfléchir sur les statistiques de ce petit blog…

I realised that I missed my own 100th-post anniversary! A few facts and figures, then, in celebration:

# notes: 102
# comments: 128
# unique visits: 1440

Mon dieu! 1440 visiteurs à mon petit blog depuis sa naissance le 25 octobre 2005. Proof that I do have some readers, even if they are a rather shy bunch and don’t comment much ;)

One other statistic that piqued my interest was the diversity of nationalities of those who have visited me here. Some of the countries/regions represented on my visitor’s log are: Canada, the US, France, the UK, Belgium, Switzerland, Germany, Hungary, Czech Republic, Poland, Russia, Turkey, Greece, Spain, Italy, Morocco, Tunisia, Brazil, New Caledonia, Japan, and China!

Merci à chacun et chacune qui m’ont rendu visite, même une seule fois. Je suis très reconaissante.

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Things I Love (IX) – Le chocolat

Monday, 30 January 2006 | 17:12

“Le chocolat est divin, moelleux, sensuel, profond. Noir, somptueux, gratifiant, puissant, dense, crémeux, séducteur, suggestif, riche, excessif, soyeux, doux, luxueux, céleste…”

Elaine Sherman

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A winter’s realisation

Sunday, 29 January 2006 | 17:21

Que j’aime le premier frisson d’hiver! le chaume,
Sous le pied du chasseur, refusant de ployer!
Quand vient la pie aux champs que le foin vert embaume,
Au fond du vieux château s’éveille le foyer;

C’est le temps de la ville. – Oh! lorsque l’an dernier,
J’y revins, que je vis ce bon Louvre et son dôme,
Paris et sa fumée, et tout ce beau royaume
(J’entends encore au vent les postillons crier),

Que j’aimais ce temps gris, ces passants, et la Seine
Sous ses mille falots assise en souveraine!
J’allais revoir l’hiver. – Et toi, ma vie, et toi!

Oh! dans tes longs regards j’allais tremper mon âme
Je saluais tes murs. – Car, qui m’eût dit, madame,
Que votre coeur sitôt avait changé pour moi?

Alfred de Musset, Sonnet : Que j’aime le premier frisson d’hiver…

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Chair

Sunday, 29 January 2006 | 0:21


La chair de femme sèche ou grasse
Est le fruit de la volupté
Tour à tour vert, mûr et gâté
Que le désir cueille ou ramasse.

Mystérieuse dans sa grâce,
Exquise dans son âcreté,
La chair de femme sèche ou grasse
Est le fruit de la volupté.

Pas un seul homme ne s’en lasse.
Chacun avec avidité
Y mordrait pour l’éternité.
Et pourtant, c’est un feu qui passe,
La chair de femme sèche ou grasse!


Maurice Rollinat, La chair

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Deux cent cinquantième

Friday, 27 January 2006 | 19:58


Le vrai génie sans coeur est un non-sens. Car ni intelligence élevée, ni imagination, ni toutes deux ensemble ne font la génie. Amour! Amour! Amour! Voilà l’âme du génie.


-W.A. Mozart

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Brrr…!

Friday, 27 January 2006 | 16:18


« On voudrait avoir ce courage des oiseaux en hiver. »


-Françoise Lefèvre

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Souveraine

Thursday, 26 January 2006 | 17:56

Le soir était plus doux que l’ombre d’une fleur.
J’entrai dans l’ombre ainsi qu’en un parfait asile.
La voix, récompensant mon attente docile,
Me chuchota: “Vois le palais de la douleur”.

Mes yeux las s’enchantaient du violet, couleur
Unique car le noir dominait. Immobile
La douleur demeurait assise, très tranquille.
J’admirais l’unité de sa grande pâleur.

Mon coeur se resserait dans un étau funeste,
Et j’allais m’éloigner, lorsqu’elle me dit: reste,
Aussitôt j’entendis prolonger un sanglot.

Dans la salle du trône, un clair de lune blême
Envahissait la nuit, comme un rocher le flot,
Et la Douleur régnait, implacable et suprême.

Renée Vivien, Elle règne

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To sleep…

Thursday, 26 January 2006 | 10:40

I would like to sing someone to sleep,
have someone to sit by and be with.
I would like to cradle you and softly sing,
be your companion while you sleep or wake.
I would like to be the only person
in the house who knew: the night outside was cold.
And would like to listen to you
and outside to the world and to the woods.

The clocks are striking, calling to each other,
and one can see right to the edge of time.
Outside the house a strange man is afoot
and a strange dog barks wakened from his sleep.
Beyond that there is silence.

My eyes rest upon your face wide-open;
and they hold you gently, letting you go
when something in the dark begins to move.

Rainer Maria Rilke, To Say Before Going To Sleep

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I am a rock

Wednesday, 25 January 2006 | 16:24

A winter’s day
In a deep and dark December;
I am alone,
Gazing from my window to the streets below
On a freshly fallen silent shroud of snow.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

I’ve built walls,
A fortress deep and mighty,
That none may penetrate.
I have no need for friendship; friendship causes pain.
It’s laughter and it’s loving I disdain.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

Don’t talk of love,
But I’ve heard the words before;
It’s sleeping in my memory.
I won’t disturb the slumber of feelings that have died.
If I never loved, I never would have cried.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

I have my books
And my poetry to protect me;
I am shielded in my armour.
Hiding in my room, safe within my womb.
I touch no one and no one touches me.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

And a rock feels no pain;
And an island never cries.

Simon and Garfunkel

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Beauté

Tuesday, 24 January 2006 | 22:01

Chacun en sa beauté vante ce qui le touche,
L’amant voit des attraits où n’en voit point l’époux;
Mais que d’autres, narguant les sarcasmes jaloux,
Vantent un poil follet au-dessus d’une bouche;

D’autres, sur des seins blancs un point comme une mouche;
D’autres, des cils bien noirs à des yeux bleus bien doux,
Ou sur un cou de lait des cheveux d’un blond roux;
Moi, j’aime en deux beaux yeux un sourire un peu louche:

C’est un rayon mouillé ; c’est un soleil dans l’eau,
Qui nage au gré du vent dont frémit le bouleau;
C’est un reflet de lune aux rebords d’un nuage;

C’est un pilote en mer, par un ciel obscurci,
Qui s’égare, se trouble, et demande merci,
Et voudrait quelque dieu, protecteur du voyage.

Charles Sainte-Beuve

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The Scarlet Letter (1926)

Monday, 23 January 2006 | 7:58

“It would be pleasant, sir, to walk beside thee and hear thee condemn me for my sins.”

I stumbled upon this movie quite by accident tonight, catching it shortly after it began. I’d never before seen it. My plans for a bubble bath were scuttled; I was mesmerised with the film! It was beautiful and powerful, despite Lars Hanson’s overly dramatic preacher (his eyes seemed ready to pop out of his head through much of the movie).
And while I was watching a silent film from 1926, my boyfriend was in the other room, playing a computer game released only weeks ago… the irony is not lost on me!

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Brin de chaleur

Monday, 23 January 2006 | 2:33


« Il existe un havre où l’on peut toujours savourer une relation authentique: le coin du feu chez un ami auprès duquel on peut se défaire de ses petites vanités et trouver chaleur et compréhension. »


-Kressman Taylor




(I love this picture; I can almost feel the heat emanating from my monitor! It’s become quite chilly here again, and just looking at this photo warms me up! And I thought it might be a nice contrast to the coolness of the last post.)

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Hiver

Monday, 23 January 2006 | 0:31


Quand par le dur hiver tristement ramenée
La neige aux longs flocons tombe, et blanchit le toit,
Laissez geindre du temps la face enchifrenée.
Par nos nombreux fagots, rendez-moi l’âtre étroit!

Par le rêveur oisif, la douce après-dinée 
Les pieds sur les chenets, il songe, il rêve, il croit
Au bonheur! – il ne veut devant sa cheminée
Qu’un voltaire bien doux, pouvant railler le froid!

Il tisonne son feu du bout de sa pincette;
La flamme s’élargit, comme une étoile jette
L’étincelle que l’oeil dans l’ombre fixe et suit;

Il lui semble alors voir les astres du soir poindre;
L’illusion redouble; heureux ! il pense joindre
A la chaleur du jour le charme de la nuit !


Jules Verne, Quand par le dur hiver…

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Us

Sunday, 22 January 2006 | 6:25

I was wrapped in black
fur and white fur and
you undid me and then
you placed me in gold light
and then you crowned me,
while snow fell outside
the door in diagonal darts.
While a ten-inch snow
came down like stars
in small calcium fragments,
we were in our own bodies
(that room that will bury us)
and you were in my body
(that room that will outlive us)
and at first I rubbed your
feet dry with a towel
becuase I was your slave
and then you called me princess.
Princess!

Oh then
I stood up in my gold skin
and I beat down the psalms
and I beat down the clothes
and you undid the bridle
and you undid the reins
and I undid the buttons,
the bones, the confusions,
the New England postcards,
the January ten o’clcik night,
and we rose up like wheat,
acre after acre of gold,
and we harvested,
we harvested.

Anne Sexton, Us

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Gentle January

Sunday, 22 January 2006 | 6:18

Here is this vale of sweet abiding,
My ultimate and dulcet home,
That gently dreams above the chiding
of restless and impatient foam;
Beyond the hazards of hell weather,
The harceling of wind and sea,
With timbers morticed tight together
My old hulk havens happily.

The dawn exultantly discloses
My lawn lit with mimosa gold;
The joy of January roses
Is with me when rich lands are cold;
Serene with bells of beauty chiming,
This dream domain to be belongs,
By sweet conspiracy of rhyming,
And virtue of some idle songs.

Robert William Service, Finale (excerpt)

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« Previous Entries

Curiosity killed the cat, you know…

La cynique est... Végétarienne. Activist. Socialiste. Perfectionistic. Stubborn. Attentive. Curvy. Quiet. Rebelle. Feminine. Sensible. Opinionated. Généralement anxieuse. A closeted optimist.

Cet espace est... Un lieu bilingue, libre et ouvert, without censorship (unless you're an evil spammer, in which case I will happily drive a stake through your heart and proudly display your head on a pike), plein de poésie et de beauté (espérons). Now put on your reading glasses and get busy.

The hills are alive

 

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