It's rather win......try.
Hello all.
Went shopping today, hurrah, and bought myself a lovely felt Trilby. Perfect fit, beautiful colour, snazzy band. Oh, and some new books might have found their way into my bag too. Hm.
I bought:
Anyways, the book's full of, as I said, Oscar's quotes and witticisms. The man was full of them! I couldn't imagine striking up a conversation with him and being able to get a word in edgeways, lol. I have a feeling, though, that he would have been a gentle man and would have taken hurting (different, afraid) youngsters under his wing. My favourite quote thus far is: ...The good we get from art is not what we learn from it; it is what we become through it.
Here's a little bit of loveliness from Stephen's essay that sort of stuck in my craw...It's nice to know that the way you think and feel isn't as bad or poisonous as other people might think it to be. Onward:
He knew perfectly well that his downfall would be perceived as the downfall of this philosophy:
People point to Reading Gaol, and say 'That is where the artistic life leads a man'. Well, it might lead to worse places. The more mechanical people...always know where they are going, and go there...A man whose desire is to be something separate from himself, to be a member of Parliament, or a successful grocer, or a prominent solicitor, or a judge, or something equally tedious, invariably succeeds in being what he wants to be.
That is his punishment. Those who want a mask have to wear it. But with the dynamic forces of life...it is different. People whose desire is solely for self-realization never know where they are going. They can't know.
This is the sticking point for many. To hear what they think of as their reward in life being described as a punishment infuriates them, and it could infuriate them only because they suspect it to be true. This is why Wilde is still the Crown Prince of Bohemia. We stand at a threshold in our lives where we look into our futures and see the permanent attachment of a mask, the final adoption of a set of values and "core beliefs" which will see us through to the end, and then we turn and look back at the gigantic, Promethean figure of Wilde - whether we picture him, cigarette in hand, at a table in the Cafe Royal, generous in wit and high on fame, or bowed over a deal table in a prison cell and cramped with dysentery - and ask ourselves if we have the courage to be like him, by which we mean the courage to be like ourselves.
I'd much prefer to be a starving writer in a tiny one room apartment surrounded by books, papers and dust, and be satisfied by the warm glow of "ah, so this is my life...", than be in a most comfortable house, with a high paying job, wedged in a grey suit and cubicle all day, going, "hm. So this is my life".
Amongst us shrinking few, us scared and unsure few, Oscar Wilde's philosophy still lives. He was brilliant and bold (and occasionally foolish) enough to be proud of who he was, so we shall be too. It doesn't matter that you're a painter and not a real estate agent, or you're a poet and not a surgeon - you're taking the step and turning your face to the warming glow of Art. Take the next step and walk towards it...Wave at the gigantic, Promethean figure of Wilde as you go past.
Went shopping today, hurrah, and bought myself a lovely felt Trilby. Perfect fit, beautiful colour, snazzy band. Oh, and some new books might have found their way into my bag too. Hm.
I bought:
- The Complete Tales And Poems Of Edgar Allen Poe, which has skulls and ancient-looking keys on the front, very Poe-etic (guffaw at the bad pun, you want to, I know it). I had a copy of a collected works of Poe's poetry on order from Amazon, but they never got it in, so I never got it, and I have an old, ratty copy of a collection of his short stories lying about somewhere (no doubt along with my Portrait Of Dorian Gray that is well hidden at the mo'). So, to deal with the issue of not having a complete works of Poe, I found this one and am most chuffed about it. Lovely.
- Nothing...Except My Genuis: A Celebration Of His Wit And Wisdom. This is a slim (and very pleasingly priced) volume of Oscar Wilde's (the great man himself, bless) quotes and little asides. There was a little surprise, too, when I got into the car on the way home and began to read it; the introduction is written by yet another great man, Stephen Fry. I should have seen this earlier in Dymocks, but I was so taken with the picture of Oscar (with a green carnation in his lapel) on the front cover that I didn't bother to turn it over, where I would have seen - quite plainly - With an introductory essay, "Playing Oscar", by Stephen Fry.
Anyways, the book's full of, as I said, Oscar's quotes and witticisms. The man was full of them! I couldn't imagine striking up a conversation with him and being able to get a word in edgeways, lol. I have a feeling, though, that he would have been a gentle man and would have taken hurting (different, afraid) youngsters under his wing. My favourite quote thus far is: ...The good we get from art is not what we learn from it; it is what we become through it.
Here's a little bit of loveliness from Stephen's essay that sort of stuck in my craw...It's nice to know that the way you think and feel isn't as bad or poisonous as other people might think it to be. Onward:
He knew perfectly well that his downfall would be perceived as the downfall of this philosophy:
People point to Reading Gaol, and say 'That is where the artistic life leads a man'. Well, it might lead to worse places. The more mechanical people...always know where they are going, and go there...A man whose desire is to be something separate from himself, to be a member of Parliament, or a successful grocer, or a prominent solicitor, or a judge, or something equally tedious, invariably succeeds in being what he wants to be.
That is his punishment. Those who want a mask have to wear it. But with the dynamic forces of life...it is different. People whose desire is solely for self-realization never know where they are going. They can't know.
This is the sticking point for many. To hear what they think of as their reward in life being described as a punishment infuriates them, and it could infuriate them only because they suspect it to be true. This is why Wilde is still the Crown Prince of Bohemia. We stand at a threshold in our lives where we look into our futures and see the permanent attachment of a mask, the final adoption of a set of values and "core beliefs" which will see us through to the end, and then we turn and look back at the gigantic, Promethean figure of Wilde - whether we picture him, cigarette in hand, at a table in the Cafe Royal, generous in wit and high on fame, or bowed over a deal table in a prison cell and cramped with dysentery - and ask ourselves if we have the courage to be like him, by which we mean the courage to be like ourselves.
I'd much prefer to be a starving writer in a tiny one room apartment surrounded by books, papers and dust, and be satisfied by the warm glow of "ah, so this is my life...", than be in a most comfortable house, with a high paying job, wedged in a grey suit and cubicle all day, going, "hm. So this is my life".
Amongst us shrinking few, us scared and unsure few, Oscar Wilde's philosophy still lives. He was brilliant and bold (and occasionally foolish) enough to be proud of who he was, so we shall be too. It doesn't matter that you're a painter and not a real estate agent, or you're a poet and not a surgeon - you're taking the step and turning your face to the warming glow of Art. Take the next step and walk towards it...Wave at the gigantic, Promethean figure of Wilde as you go past.