a fool in the forest


  • A fool, a fool! I met a fool i' the
    A motley fool; a miserable world!
    As I do live by food, I met a fool
    Who laid him down and bask'd him
        in the sun,
    And rail'd on Lady Fortune in good
    In good set terms and yet a motley

    As You Like It,
    Act II, Scene 7

    L'homme y passe à travers des
        forêts de symboles
    Qui l'observent avec des regards

    Les Fleurs du Mal,

    [T]here is almost no subject-matter, and what little one can disentangle is foolish....
    One would call the style verbose, except that by definition verbosity is the use of words in excess of the occasion, and there seems to be no occasion.

    Yvor Winters,
    Forms of Discovery, Ch. 7

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    by a Legally-Oriented
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    « And speaking of links . . . | Main | Blogs of the Poets [updated] »

    September 05, 2003



    Any man who could write The Dong With A Luminous Nose was the Antichrist. The whole universe is poisoned and tortured just by knowing Lear ever existed. What sort of sick mind are you to find such loss and misery amusing? Everyone capable of saying one good word for Dong With A Luminous Nose bears personally on their hands the blood of every life lost to bullying and war atrocities throughout history, just as culpably as the actual killers. How? Simply by making savage emotional harshness the cultural norm.

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