Showing posts with label calling. Show all posts
Showing posts with label calling. Show all posts
3.19.2024
3.30.2022
name and calling
Until someone else calls you a poet, don’t think of yourself as one.
Labels:
calling,
name,
poet is,
recognition
8.16.2020
ruling passion
Since the age of fifteen poetry has been my ruling passion and I have never intentionally undertaken any tasks or formed any relationship that seem inconsistent with poetic principles; which has sometimes won me the reputation of an eccentric. Prose has been my livelihood, but I have used it as a means of sharpening my sense of the altogether different nature of poetry, and the themes that I chose are always linked in my mind with outstanding poetic problems.
—Robert Graves, The White Goddess (Faber & Faber, 1948)
—Robert Graves, The White Goddess (Faber & Faber, 1948)
Labels:
calling,
eccentric,
poetry v. prose,
robert graves,
vocation
7.26.2017
two paths
There’s a difference between poets who answered a calling and poets who pursued a literary career.
Labels:
calling,
career,
lives of the poets
1.20.2016
higher calling
Frustrated with my poetry, I decided to remake myself into the proverbial ‘ideal reader’.
Labels:
calling,
frustration,
ideal reader,
reader
8.01.2015
other kind of hero
Hölderlin’s heroism is splendid because it is free from pride and devoid of confidence in victory. All he is aware of is his mission, the summons from the invisible world; he believes in his calling, but has no assurance of success. He is forever vulnerable…It is the feeling that he is foredoomed to destruction, that a menacing shadow dogs his footsteps, which makes his persistence in his chosen course so courageous. The reader must not think that Hölderlin’s faith in poesy as the profoundest meaning of life implies a like belief in his own poetic gifts. As regards these latter he remained humble-minded…Yet for all this personal modesty, for all this sensitiveness, he had a will of steel to animate his devotion to poesy, to fortify him for self-immolation. “My dear friend,” he writes to one of his intimates, “when will people come to see that in our case the greatest force is the most modest in its manifestations, and that the divine message (when it issues from us) is always uttered with humility and sadness?” His heroism was not that of the warrior, not the heroism of triumphant force; it was the heroism of the martyr who is ready, nay, glad, to suffer for the unseen, to perish on behalf of an ideal.
—Stefan Zweig, “Hölderlin,” The Struggle with the Daemon: Hölderlin, Kleist, Nietzsche (Pushkin Press, 2012) translated by Eden and Cedar Paul.
—Stefan Zweig, “Hölderlin,” The Struggle with the Daemon: Hölderlin, Kleist, Nietzsche (Pushkin Press, 2012) translated by Eden and Cedar Paul.
Labels:
calling,
daemon,
faith,
friedrich hölderlin,
hero,
humble,
life,
lives of the poets,
modesty,
sacrifice,
stefan zweig
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