Simone Weil, an Anthology

Front Cover
Sin Miles
Grove Press, 2000 - Philosophy - 290 pages
Philosopher, theologian, critic, sociologist, political activist -- Simone Weil was among the foremost thinkers of our time. Best known in this country for her theological writing, Weil wrote on a great variety of subjects ranging from classical philosophy and poetry, to modern labor, to the language of political discourse. The present anthology offers a generous collection of her work, including essays never before translated into English and many that have long been out of print. It amply confirms Elizabeth Hardwick's words that Simone Weil was "one of the most brilliant and original minds of twentieth-century France" and "a woman of transcendent intellectual gifts and the widest learning." A longtime Weil scholar, Sian Miles has selected essays representative of the wide sweep of Weil's work and provides a superb introduction that places Weil's work in context of her life and times.
 

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I am in awe after reading James Holoka's analysis of Simone Weil's The Iliad OR the poem of force - a critical edition. This anthology adds to my admiration of her strength in words alone.

Contents

Human Personality
49
The Self
79
The Needs of the Soul
85
The Great Beast
121
Analysis of Oppression
127
The Mysticism of Work
158
The Iliad or the Poem of Force
162
Void and Compensation
196
The Power of Words
218
Contradiction
239
Prerequisite to Dignity of Labour
244
Detachment
257
Friendship
261
Love
270
Chance
277
BIBLIOGRAPHY
279

Draft for a Statement of Human Obligations
201
Attention and Will
211

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Page 17 - I went through there marked me in so lasting a manner that still today when any human being, whoever he may be and in whatever circumstances, speaks to me without brutality, I cannot help having the impression that there must be a mistake and that unfortunately the mistake will in all probability disappear. There I received...
Page 42 - Once the experience of war makes visible the possibility of death that lies locked up in each moment, our thoughts cannot travel from one day to the next without meeting death's face. The mind is then strung up to a pitch it can stand for only a short time; but each new dawn reintroduces the same necessity; and days piled on days make years. On each one of these days the soul suffers violence. Regularly, every morning, the soul castrates itself of aspiration, for thought cannot journey through time...

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