Posted in Quotation on July 7, 2011|
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But he became most furious when he read the poet’s nostalgic invocation immediately corrected for reasons of prudence and opportunism: “Ah with what warm heart would I stay with you . . . with what warm heart! But, little cypress trees, ah let me go . . .” Really and truly scandalous, was his comment. “It’s as if I were to say, ‘Magris, I’m going to Paris; shall I call in on your grandmother?’ – ‘Oh, that would be splendid. Poor old dear, she’ll be so pleased.’ – ‘But, you know, I’m only there for two days, and I’ve a lot to do, and she’s out in the suburbs, I’d have to change trains three times and then take a bus . . .’ – ‘Oh go to hell then, who asked you for anything!'”
He wanted to teach us to despise the soppy mush of feeling, the false generosity that for an instant, and in all good faith, promises the sun, moon and stars, convinced of its own generous impulse, but that for all sorts of sound, valid reasons draws back when it comes to the point.
— Claudio Magris (trans. by Patrick Creagh), Danube (New York : Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 1989), pgs. 228-29.
I am reminded of something I did about six years ago that I will continue to remember often and continue to feel every bit as sad about every time.
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