#Thomas de Quincey

[weirdlookindog]

Zhenya Gay (1906-1978) - Illustrations for "Confessions of an English Opium-Eater" by Thomas De Quincey, Heritage Press 1950

[dabiconcordia]

“Call for the grandest of all earthly spectacles, what is that? It is the sun going to his rest.” ― Thomas de Quincey

[tenderwulf]

Mater Suspiriorum

In his book Suspiria De Profundis, Thomas De Quincey talks about the three Ladies of Sorrow. The second one is Mater Suspiriorum, Our Lady Of Sighs.

«The second sister is called Mater Suspiriorum , Our Lady of Sighs. She never scales the clouds, nor walks abroad upon the winds. She wears no diadem. And her eyes, if they were ever seen, would be neither sweet nor subtle; no man could read their story; they would be found filled with perishing dreams, and with wrecks of forgotten delirium. But she raises not her eyes; her head, on which sits a dilapidated turban, droops forever, forever fastens on the dust. She weeps not. She groans not. But she sighs inaudibly at intervals. (...) She also carries a key; but she needs it little.»

[bobbole]

Willy Pogany, illustration for Confessions of an English opium-eater by Thomas De Quincey, c1935 

[majestativa]

Paul Verlaine, having achieved the soulful heights of Sagesses, breaks down and is advised by a doctor to write out its darkling, carnal equivalent – which he calls Parallèlement. DeQuincey climbs the ladder of imagination and finds himself mired in the miasmas of opium. Sade, Rimbaud, Bosch, Toulouse-Lautrec, Odilon Redon, Grünewald, Bresdin, Baudelaire, Huysmans, all learn to look directly into the black effulgence of Behemoth, for what is below is above, and what is above is below.

— PAUL WALDO SCHWARTZ ⚜️ Art and the Occult, (1975)

[contremineur]

I ran into pagodas: and was fixed, for centuries, at the summit, or in secret rooms; I was the idol; I was the priest; I was worshipped; I was sacrificed. I fled from the wrath of Brahma through all the forests of Asia; Vishnu hated me; Shiva lay wait for me. I came suddenly upon Isis and Osiris: I had done a deed, they said, which the ibis and crocodile trembled at. Thousands of years I lived and was buried in stone coffins, with mummies and sphinxes, in narrow chambers at the heart of eternal pyramids. I was kissed, with cancerous kisses, by crocodiles; and laid, confounded with all utterable slimy things, amongst reeds and Nilotic mud.

Thomas de Quincey, from Confessions of an English opium-eater (1821)

[litteratured]

CONFESSIONS OF AN ENGLISH OPIUM EATER - Thomas De Quincey - Read by Anthony Quayle

"Opium ! dread agent of unimaginable pleasure and pain !"

[asfaltics]

Towadethroughwaterormud; with the ducks amongst the papers

                          She shifted her hand,                 and ‘ploitered’ amongst the papers for full five minutes.   ₁         for he would be forever with the ducks, ploutering about at the ‘spout’.   ₂  

1 Thomas De Quincey, “Sortilage on Behalf of a Literary Institution” (dated Feb 24, 1848) in Leaders in Literature, with a notice of Traditional Errors Affecting Them (London, 1858) : 260-283 (269) (google books) : link 2 Mary Findlater “Void of Understanding,” Cornhill Magazine No. 477 (September 1899) : 310-321 (313) Cornell copy/scan (via hathitrust) : link

—

rather more on both — and the words “ploiter” and “plouter” — at 2628  

[werewolfetone]

And while I'm on the subject of deranged early 19th century political writing we are literally so lucky that Thomas de Quincey was born too late to be a political columnist during the French Revolution and had to content himself with the post Napoleonic period

[blackswaneuroparedux]

Tea, though ridiculed by those who are naturally coarse in their nervous sensibilities, will always be the favourite beverage of the intellectual.

- Thomas de Quincey

[elegantzombielite]

"Solitude, though it may be silent as light, is like light, the mightiest of agencies; for solitude is essential to man. All men come into this world alone; all leave it alone."

Thomas De Quincey, writer (15th August 1785-1859)

[illusoryfem]

Suspiria de Profundis, Thomas de Quincey

[dabiconcordia]

"For tea, though ridiculed by those who are naturally coarse in their nervous sensibilities, or are become so from wine-drinking, and are not susceptible of influence from so refined a stimulant, will always be the favourite beverage of the intellectual." Thomas de Quincey

[tenderwulf]

Mater Lachrymarum

In his book Suspiria De Profundis, Thomas De Quincey talks about the three Ladies of Sorrow. The first one is Mater Lachrymarum, Our Lady Of Tears.

«Her eyes are sweet and subtle, wild and sleepy, by turns; oftentimes rising to the clouds, oftentimes challenging the heavens. She wears a diadem round her head. (...) This sister, the elder, it is that carries keys more than papal at her girdle, which open every cottage and every palace. (...) By the power of her keys it is that Our Lady of Tears glides a ghostly intruder into the chambers of sleepless men, sleepless women, sleepless children, from Ganges to the Nile, from Nile to Mississippi.»

[dooareyastudy]

Books I have read in February 2023 & my opinion on them (ft. my lovely tulips)

Le Diable, Léon Tolstoï, 1911 | Found it a bit boring. Didn’t like it as much as I thought I would.

Les aventures de la marchandise : pour une critique de la valeur (2003) & La Société autophage : capitalisme, démesure et autodestruction (2017), Anselm Jappe | A real, hard slap in the face. I think this will be a turning point in my political journey. Kinda want to do a in-depth review of the two books but I am not sure who would read it !

On Murder considered as One of the Fine Arts, Thomas de Quincey, 1827 | It was fun. I liked the first part the most, really captures the rambling inherent to academic lecturers. Much like the Confessions, de Quincey masters the art of beating around the bush. And I kinda like that.

Le Roi pêcheur, Julien Gracq, 1948 | Julien Gracq my beloved. Probably my favourite thing I read of him yet. It was sooooo good, such a great play.

Le Désastre de Pavie : 24 février 1525, Jean Giono, 1963 | I was skeptical about reading an historical essay written by a novelist but I was proven wrong! It was a really good book, well-written and the author offers a very interesting insight of the events. I now have really random knowledge of the year 1525.

Contes, Alexandre Pouchkine, 1831-35 | It was fun reading tales but I am a bit disappointed as they were originally written in verse and the translation is in prose!

[karnaca78]