Author: Mihai Spariosu
Publisher: SUNY Press
ISBN: 9780791433652
Category : Literary Criticism
Languages : en
Pages : 372
Book Description
Examines the concept of play in Western thought, with special emphasis on the relationship between aesthetics and ethics, and envisions literary discourse as contributing to an alternative mentality based on peace rather than power.
The Wreath of Wild Olive
Author: Mihai Spariosu
Publisher: SUNY Press
ISBN: 9780791433652
Category : Literary Criticism
Languages : en
Pages : 372
Book Description
Examines the concept of play in Western thought, with special emphasis on the relationship between aesthetics and ethics, and envisions literary discourse as contributing to an alternative mentality based on peace rather than power.
Publisher: SUNY Press
ISBN: 9780791433652
Category : Literary Criticism
Languages : en
Pages : 372
Book Description
Examines the concept of play in Western thought, with special emphasis on the relationship between aesthetics and ethics, and envisions literary discourse as contributing to an alternative mentality based on peace rather than power.
Crown of wild olives. 1893
Author: John Ruskin
Publisher:
ISBN:
Category :
Languages : en
Pages : 278
Book Description
Publisher:
ISBN:
Category :
Languages : en
Pages : 278
Book Description
Crown of wild olives, Munera pulveris, Pre-Raphaelitism, Aratra Pentelici
Author: John Ruskin
Publisher:
ISBN:
Category : English literature
Languages : en
Pages : 518
Book Description
Publisher:
ISBN:
Category : English literature
Languages : en
Pages : 518
Book Description
THE CROWN OF WILD OLIVE ALSO MUNERA PULVERIS PRE-RAPHAELITISM ARATRA PENTELICI THE ETHICS OF THE DUST FICTION, FAIR AND FOUL THE ELEMENTS OF DRAWING
Author: JOHN RUSKIN, M.A.
Publisher: BEYOND BOOKS HUB
ISBN:
Category : Fiction
Languages : en
Pages : 912
Book Description
Twenty years ago, there was no lovelier piece of lowland scenery in South England, nor any more pathetic in the world, by its expression of sweet human character and life, than that immediately bordering on the sources of the Wandle, and including the lower moors of Addington, and the villages of Beddington and Carshalton, with all their pools and streams. No clearer or diviner waters ever sang with constant lips of the hand which 'giveth rain from heaven;' no pastures ever lightened in spring time with more passionate blossoming; no sweeter homes ever hallowed the heart of the passer-by with their pride of peaceful gladness—fain-hidden—yet full-confessed. The place remains, or, until a few months ago, remained, nearly unchanged in its larger features; but, with deliberate mind I say, that I have never seen anything so ghastly in its inner tragic meaning,—not in Pisan Maremma—not by Campagna tomb,—not by the sand-isles of the Torcellan shore,—as the slow stealing of aspects of reckless, indolent, animal neglect, over the delicate sweetness of that English scene: nor is any blasphemy or impiety—any frantic saying or godless thought—more appalling to me, using the best power of judgment I have to discern its sense and scope, than the insolent defilings of those springs by the human herds that drink of them. Just where the welling of stainless water, trembling and pure, like a body of light, enters the pool of Carshalton, cutting itself a radiant channel down to the gravel, through warp of feathery weeds, all waving, which it traverses with its deep threads of clearness, like the chalcedony in moss-agate, starred here and there with white grenouillette; just in the very rush and murmur of the first spreading currents, the human wretches of the place cast their street and house foulness; heaps of dust and slime, and broken shreds of old metal, and rags of putrid clothes; they having neither energy to cart it away, nor decency enough to dig it into the ground, thus shed into the stream, to diffuse what venom of it will float and melt, far away, in all places where God meant those waters to bring joy and health. And, in a little pool, behind some houses farther in the village, where another spring rises, the shattered stones of the well, and of the little fretted channel which was long ago built and traced for it by gentler hands, lie scattered, each from each, under a ragged bank of mortar, and scoria; and brick-layers' refuse, on one side, which the clean water nevertheless chastises to purity; but it cannot conquer the dead earth beyond; and there, circled and coiled under festering scum, the stagnant edge of the pool effaces itself into a slope of black slime, the accumulation of indolent years. Half-a-dozen men, with one day's work, could cleanse those pools, and trim the flowers about their banks, and make every breath of summer air above them rich with cool balm; and every glittering wave medicinal, as if it ran, troubled of angels, from the porch of Bethesda. But that day's work is never given, nor will be; nor will any joy be possible to heart of man, for evermore, about those wells of English waters.
Publisher: BEYOND BOOKS HUB
ISBN:
Category : Fiction
Languages : en
Pages : 912
Book Description
Twenty years ago, there was no lovelier piece of lowland scenery in South England, nor any more pathetic in the world, by its expression of sweet human character and life, than that immediately bordering on the sources of the Wandle, and including the lower moors of Addington, and the villages of Beddington and Carshalton, with all their pools and streams. No clearer or diviner waters ever sang with constant lips of the hand which 'giveth rain from heaven;' no pastures ever lightened in spring time with more passionate blossoming; no sweeter homes ever hallowed the heart of the passer-by with their pride of peaceful gladness—fain-hidden—yet full-confessed. The place remains, or, until a few months ago, remained, nearly unchanged in its larger features; but, with deliberate mind I say, that I have never seen anything so ghastly in its inner tragic meaning,—not in Pisan Maremma—not by Campagna tomb,—not by the sand-isles of the Torcellan shore,—as the slow stealing of aspects of reckless, indolent, animal neglect, over the delicate sweetness of that English scene: nor is any blasphemy or impiety—any frantic saying or godless thought—more appalling to me, using the best power of judgment I have to discern its sense and scope, than the insolent defilings of those springs by the human herds that drink of them. Just where the welling of stainless water, trembling and pure, like a body of light, enters the pool of Carshalton, cutting itself a radiant channel down to the gravel, through warp of feathery weeds, all waving, which it traverses with its deep threads of clearness, like the chalcedony in moss-agate, starred here and there with white grenouillette; just in the very rush and murmur of the first spreading currents, the human wretches of the place cast their street and house foulness; heaps of dust and slime, and broken shreds of old metal, and rags of putrid clothes; they having neither energy to cart it away, nor decency enough to dig it into the ground, thus shed into the stream, to diffuse what venom of it will float and melt, far away, in all places where God meant those waters to bring joy and health. And, in a little pool, behind some houses farther in the village, where another spring rises, the shattered stones of the well, and of the little fretted channel which was long ago built and traced for it by gentler hands, lie scattered, each from each, under a ragged bank of mortar, and scoria; and brick-layers' refuse, on one side, which the clean water nevertheless chastises to purity; but it cannot conquer the dead earth beyond; and there, circled and coiled under festering scum, the stagnant edge of the pool effaces itself into a slope of black slime, the accumulation of indolent years. Half-a-dozen men, with one day's work, could cleanse those pools, and trim the flowers about their banks, and make every breath of summer air above them rich with cool balm; and every glittering wave medicinal, as if it ran, troubled of angels, from the porch of Bethesda. But that day's work is never given, nor will be; nor will any joy be possible to heart of man, for evermore, about those wells of English waters.
The Crown of Wild Olive
Author: John Ruskin
Publisher:
ISBN:
Category : Architecture
Languages : en
Pages : 292
Book Description
Publisher:
ISBN:
Category : Architecture
Languages : en
Pages : 292
Book Description
The Crown of Wild Olive, and The Queen of the Air
Author: John Ruskin
Publisher:
ISBN:
Category :
Languages : en
Pages : 416
Book Description
Publisher:
ISBN:
Category :
Languages : en
Pages : 416
Book Description
The Crown Of Wild Olive And The Ethics Of The Dust
Author: John Ruskin
Publisher:
ISBN:
Category :
Languages : en
Pages : 320
Book Description
Publisher:
ISBN:
Category :
Languages : en
Pages : 320
Book Description
The Works of John Ruskin: The crown of wild olive
Author: John Ruskin
Publisher:
ISBN:
Category :
Languages : en
Pages : 228
Book Description
Publisher:
ISBN:
Category :
Languages : en
Pages : 228
Book Description
The Crown of Wild Olive ... Second Edition
Author: John Ruskin
Publisher:
ISBN:
Category :
Languages : en
Pages : 264
Book Description
Publisher:
ISBN:
Category :
Languages : en
Pages : 264
Book Description
The Crown of Wild Olive
Author: Ruskin
Publisher:
ISBN:
Category :
Languages : en
Pages : 212
Book Description
Publisher:
ISBN:
Category :
Languages : en
Pages : 212
Book Description