&w=3840&q=75)
&w=3840&q=75)
&w=3840&q=75)
&w=3840&q=75)
&w=3840&q=75)
&w=3840&q=75)
58
FLAUBERT Gustave (1821-1880).
The item was sold for 12 740 €
Fees include commission and taxes.
FLAUBERT Gustave (1821-1880).
L.A.S. "Ton", [Croisset] Friday evening 1 h. ["15 July 1853" (in Louise Colet's handwriting)], to Louise COLET| 4 pages in4, envelope with red wax seal with her cipher.
Superb and long letter to his mistress, on genius and Madame Bovary.
"While I was reproaching you for your letter, dearest Muse, you reproached yourself for it
- chais. You cannot believe how much this moved me. Not because of the fact itself. I was sure that when you consider it coldly, you will soon see it in the same light as I do - but because of the simultaneity of the impression. We think in unison [...] If our bodies are far apart our souls touch. Mine is often with yours, only in old affections does this penetration happen. Only in old affections does this penetration occur. We enter into each other by pressing against each other. Have you observed that even the physical aspect is affected, that old spouses end up looking alike? [...] People often take
BOUIL HET and me for brothers.
I am sure that ten years ago this would have been impossible. The mind is like an inner clay, it pushes the form from within and shapes it to suit itself.
If you got up sometimes while you were writing - in the good moments of verve, when the idea filled you - and looked at yourself in the mirror, were you not suddenly amazed at your beauty? There was like a halo around your head, & your enlarged eyes threw flames. (Electricity is the closest thing to thought? It remains like it, until now, a rather fantastic force? These sparks which come out of the hair, during the great cold, in the night, have perhaps a closer relationship than that of a pure symbol, with the old fable of nimbus, halos, transfigurations?) [...] What an artist one would be if one had never read anything but the beautiful, seen anything but the beautiful, loved anything but the beautiful. If some guardian angel of the purity of our pen had kept away from us, from the very beginning, all bad knowledge, we would never have frequented imbeciles or read newspapers. The Greeks had all this. They were as plastic in conditions that nothing will restore. But to want to put on their boots is madness. It is not chlamydes that the North needs, but fur pelisses. The ancient form is insufficient for our needs (and our voice is not made to sing these simple tunes.
Let us be as artistic as they are if we can, but differently from them.)
The conscience of the human race has expanded since Homer. Sancho Panza's belly makes Venus' belt crack. - Instead of striving to reproduce old chic, we must strive to invent new ones. LECONTE DE LISLE "lacks the instinct of modern life.
He lacks the heart, I do not mean individual or even humanitarian sensitivity - no, but the heart in the almost medical sense of the word. Her ink is pale. She is a muse who has not taken enough air. - Horses & breed styles have blood in their veins, and you can see it beating under the skin and words from the ear to the hooves. - Life! life! a hard-on, it's all there! That's why I love lyricism so much. It seems to me the most natural form of poetry. It is there, naked and free. All the strength of a work lies in this mystery| and it is this primordial quality, this motus animi continuus (vibration, continuous movement of the spirit, definition of eloquence, by Cicero) which gives conciseness, relief, turns, impulses, rhythm, diversity. - It does not take much malice to make Criticism! One can judge the goodness of a book by the vigour of the blows it has given you and the length of time it takes you to return. - Also how excessive the great masters are! They go to the very limit of the idea.
Pourceaugnac is about making a man take an enema.
It is not an enema that is brought. No, but the whole room will be invaded by syringes. The men in
MIC HEL A N G E have cables rather than muscles. In the bacchanal of RU BENS we piss on the floor. See all
SHAKESPE ARE etc. - and the last of the family this old father
H U G O. - What a beautiful thing Notre Dame is. I have recently reread three chapters of it, the sack of the hoodlums among others. That's what's strong. - I believe that the greatest character of genius is above all strength. - So what I hate most in the arts, what makes me tense, is ingenuity, wit, - what a difference from bad taste, which is a good quality gone astray. For to have what is called bad taste, one must have poetry in one's brain. But Spirit on the contrary is incompatible with true poetry - who had more spirit than Voltaire & who was less of a poet? Now in this charming country of Fra
L.A.S. "Ton", [Croisset] Friday evening 1 h. ["15 July 1853" (in Louise Colet's handwriting)], to Louise COLET| 4 pages in4, envelope with red wax seal with her cipher.
Superb and long letter to his mistress, on genius and Madame Bovary.
"While I was reproaching you for your letter, dearest Muse, you reproached yourself for it
- chais. You cannot believe how much this moved me. Not because of the fact itself. I was sure that when you consider it coldly, you will soon see it in the same light as I do - but because of the simultaneity of the impression. We think in unison [...] If our bodies are far apart our souls touch. Mine is often with yours, only in old affections does this penetration happen. Only in old affections does this penetration occur. We enter into each other by pressing against each other. Have you observed that even the physical aspect is affected, that old spouses end up looking alike? [...] People often take
BOUIL HET and me for brothers.
I am sure that ten years ago this would have been impossible. The mind is like an inner clay, it pushes the form from within and shapes it to suit itself.
If you got up sometimes while you were writing - in the good moments of verve, when the idea filled you - and looked at yourself in the mirror, were you not suddenly amazed at your beauty? There was like a halo around your head, & your enlarged eyes threw flames. (Electricity is the closest thing to thought? It remains like it, until now, a rather fantastic force? These sparks which come out of the hair, during the great cold, in the night, have perhaps a closer relationship than that of a pure symbol, with the old fable of nimbus, halos, transfigurations?) [...] What an artist one would be if one had never read anything but the beautiful, seen anything but the beautiful, loved anything but the beautiful. If some guardian angel of the purity of our pen had kept away from us, from the very beginning, all bad knowledge, we would never have frequented imbeciles or read newspapers. The Greeks had all this. They were as plastic in conditions that nothing will restore. But to want to put on their boots is madness. It is not chlamydes that the North needs, but fur pelisses. The ancient form is insufficient for our needs (and our voice is not made to sing these simple tunes.
Let us be as artistic as they are if we can, but differently from them.)
The conscience of the human race has expanded since Homer. Sancho Panza's belly makes Venus' belt crack. - Instead of striving to reproduce old chic, we must strive to invent new ones. LECONTE DE LISLE "lacks the instinct of modern life.
He lacks the heart, I do not mean individual or even humanitarian sensitivity - no, but the heart in the almost medical sense of the word. Her ink is pale. She is a muse who has not taken enough air. - Horses & breed styles have blood in their veins, and you can see it beating under the skin and words from the ear to the hooves. - Life! life! a hard-on, it's all there! That's why I love lyricism so much. It seems to me the most natural form of poetry. It is there, naked and free. All the strength of a work lies in this mystery| and it is this primordial quality, this motus animi continuus (vibration, continuous movement of the spirit, definition of eloquence, by Cicero) which gives conciseness, relief, turns, impulses, rhythm, diversity. - It does not take much malice to make Criticism! One can judge the goodness of a book by the vigour of the blows it has given you and the length of time it takes you to return. - Also how excessive the great masters are! They go to the very limit of the idea.
Pourceaugnac is about making a man take an enema.
It is not an enema that is brought. No, but the whole room will be invaded by syringes. The men in
MIC HEL A N G E have cables rather than muscles. In the bacchanal of RU BENS we piss on the floor. See all
SHAKESPE ARE etc. - and the last of the family this old father
H U G O. - What a beautiful thing Notre Dame is. I have recently reread three chapters of it, the sack of the hoodlums among others. That's what's strong. - I believe that the greatest character of genius is above all strength. - So what I hate most in the arts, what makes me tense, is ingenuity, wit, - what a difference from bad taste, which is a good quality gone astray. For to have what is called bad taste, one must have poetry in one's brain. But Spirit on the contrary is incompatible with true poetry - who had more spirit than Voltaire & who was less of a poet? Now in this charming country of Fra