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Page 300 - Death has set his mark and seal On all we are and all we feel, On all we know and all we fear, First our pleasures die — and then Our hopes, and then our fears — and when These are dead, the debt is due, Dust claims dust — and we die too. All things that we love and cherish, Like ourselves, must fade and perish ; Such is our rude mortal lot — Love itself would, did they not.
Page vii - Birth is a grossly sexual thing, death is a brutally physical thing, the ending, certainly, of the animal, whatever may remain over, inside that white forehead in which the brain has stopped working. This physically sincere, attentive, impressionable self, then, which d'Annunzio finds in his own nature, and which he lends to the scarcely differentiated heroes of his books, is but the basis of a more extended and a more conscious self. Beginning by that intent waiting upon sensation in the first place,...
Page vii - Well, nature is immoral. Birth is a grossly sexual thing, death is a brutally physical thing, the ending, certainly, of the animal, whatever may remain over, inside that white forehead in which the brain has stopped working. This physically sincere, attentive, impressionable self, then, which d'Annunzio finds in his own nature, and which he lends to the scarcely diffeientiated heroes of his books, is but the basis of a more extended and a more conscious self.
Page vi - And so he becomes the idealist of material things, while seeming to materialise spiritual things. He accepts, as no one else of our time does, the whole physical basis of life, the spirit which can be known only through the body, the body which is but clay in the shaping or destroying hands of the spirit.
Page xi - L'Innocente, which shows a new influence, the Russian intimacy of Tolstoi and Dostoievsky, deviates in form, but narrows the interest of the action still tighter about two lonely figures, seeming to be cut off from the world by some invisible, impassable line. In the Trionfo della Morte, form, subject, are both found. This study in the psychology of passion is a book scarcely to be read without terror, so insinuatingly does it show the growth, change, and slowly absorbing dominion of the flesh over...
Page x - It has never freed itself from the bondage of mere " truth " (likeness, that is, to appearances), it is only now, faintly and hesitatingly, beginning to consider beauty as its highest aim. No art can be supreme art if it does not consider beauty as its highest aim. It may be asked, it may even be doubted, whether such an aim will ever be practically possible for the novel. But to answer in the negative is to take away the novel's one chance of becoming a great imaginative art.
Page xi - Just because they are so shadowy, because they may seem to be so unreal, they have another, nearer, more insidious kind of reality than that reality by which Antony is so absolutely Antony, Tristan so absolutely heroic love. These live in themselves with so intense a personal or tragic life that they are...
Page 51 - Lass dich, Geliebte, nicht reu'n, dass du mir so schnell dich ergeben ! Glaub' es, ich denke nicht frech, denke nicht niedrig von dir.