T.S. Eliot

The New Year: Drunk with Time

December 31, 2012

. I was reminded by a reader’s visit of what I posted here three years ago today: Charles Baudelaire’s “Be Drunk” (below). A good-humored dissenting comment reminded of Baudelaire that the man died at age 46 a syphilitic laudanum addict having spent fortunes of inherited money on prostitutes and wine. Ah, well, we are such foibles [...]


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Writing Paradise

October 25, 2012

. I learned at an early adult age, with only minor but memorable pain, not to hero-worship. When we lionize people, we tend to forget the natural inclination of the lion to consume the person. I prefer admiration. Admiration works from the muck up. While hero worship sets up the faithful for a fall, admiration [...]


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T.S. Eliot – La Figlia Che Piange

August 11, 2010

(H/T Maureen Doallas)


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“Quick now, here, now, always –”

January 2, 2010

Esteemed reader Copithorne, entering the New Year in a nitpicky mood, was moved by our end of year poetry, “Be Drunk,” to investigate its author,  Charles Baudelaire, and offer this Caveat Lector Evidently the man died at age 46 a syphilitic laudanum addict having spent fortunes of inherited money on prostitutes and wine as if [...]


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