I feel like Frank Grimes
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Date: October 17th, 2026 12:57 PM Author: Consuela
After his retirement as a writer, he travelled extensively on three continents as a merchant and explorer until his death from cancer just after his thirty-seventh birthday.[6] As a poet, Rimbaud is well known for his contributions to symbolism and, among other works, for A Season in Hell, a precursor to modernist literature.[7]
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arthur_Rimbaud
no one knows anything anymore
(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5913461&forum_id=2#50193783) |
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Date: October 17th, 2026 12:58 PM Author: Consuela
or see Junger: “As for posthumous literary glory, I don’t set excessive store by it. I’m skeptical, for I’ve observed that such glory pales even in an author’s lifetime. He then leads the life of a pauvre poete oublie [a poor forgotten poet]. Or else he behaves very sensibly, like Rimbaud, who after producing an exceptional literary oeuvre in his youth, devoted himself to commerce in Africa; that was more important in his eyes. And sub specie aeternitatis, the day will come when even Homer will be totally unknown. Glory is like the blazing tale of a comet, which still sparkles for a while in the wake of the work. You may then wonder what the goal of writing is assuming it has a goal. It is the creative instant itself, in which something timeless is produced, something that cannot be wiped out. The universe has affirmed itself in the individual, and that must suffice, whether or not anyone else notices it. In 1942, when I visited Picasso on Rue des Grands-Augustins, he said to me: “Look, this painting, which I have just completed, is going to have a certain effect; but this effect would be exactly the same, metaphysically speaking, if I wrapped the painting up in paper and cosigned it to a corner. It would be exactly the same thing as if ten thousand people had admired it.”
(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5913461&forum_id=2#50193788) |
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