De Australische schrijfster Pamela Lyndon Travers werd als Helen Lyndon Goff op 9 augustus 1899 geboren in Maryborough in Australië. Zie ook alle tags voor P. L. Travers op dit blog en eveneens mijn blog van 9 augustus 2009 en ook mijn blog van 9 augustus 2010
Uit: Mary Poppins
“The watching children heard a terrific bang, and as she landed the whole house shook.
“How funny! I’ve never seen that happen before,” said Michael.
“Let’s go and see who it is!” said Jane, and taking Michael’s arm she drew him away from the window, through the Nursery and out on to the landing. From there they always had a good view of anything that happened in the front hall.
Presently they saw their Mother coming out of the drawing-room with a visitor following her. Jane and Michael could see that the newcomer had shiny black hair—“Rather like a wooden Dutch doll,” whispered Jane. And that she was thin, with large feet and hands, and small, rather peering blue eyes.
“You’ll find that they are very nice children,” Mrs. Banks was saying.
Michael’s elbow gave a sharp dig at Jane’s ribs.
“And that they give no trouble at all,” continued Mrs. Banks uncertainly, as if she herself didn’t really believe what she was saying. They heard the visitor sniff as though she didn’t either.
“Now, about reference—” Mrs. Banks went on.
“Oh, I make it a rule never to give references,” said the other firmly. Mrs. Banks stared.
“But I thought it was usual,” she said. “I mean—I understood people always did.”
“A very old-fashioned idea, to my mind,” Jane and Michael heard the stern voice say. “Very old-fashioned. Quite out of date, as you might say.”
Now, if there was one thing Mrs. Banks did not like, it was to be thought old-fashioned. She just couldn’t bear it. So she said quickly:
“Very well, then. We won’t bother about them. I only asked, of course, in case you—er—required it. The nursery is upstairs—”
P. L. Travers (9 augustus 1899 – 23 april 1996)
Julie Andrews als Mary Poppins in de film uit 1964
De Franse schrijver, vertaler en schilder Pierre Klossowski werd geboren op 9 augustus 1905 in Parijs. Zie ook alle tags voor Pierre Klossowski op dit blog en eveneens mijn blog van 9 augustus 2009 en ook mijn blog van 9 augustus 2010
Uit: Le Baphomet
« -Frère Philippe, debout ! Montre-nous où s’est caché ta tête ! Allons cherche !
Le Roi décapité s’éloigne de la table, se retourne et les bras tendus, reprend sa marche hésitante vers le milieu de la salle. Mais comme il s’apprête à tourner le dos au personnage voilé, les Juifs s’avisent de le soutenir et le veulent guider : artisans et marchands là-contre hurlent de plus belle, que toutefois fascine la majesté acéphale qu’ils n’osent approcher.»
(…)
« Nulle satisfaction morale ici, qui ne saurait seulement être requise. Une violence d’un autre ordre naît dans notre condition : elle s’exerce par une totale indifférence. Elle est cette indifférence même : et ne laissant point de trace c’est la pire des violences ! Contre elle il me faut lutter, mes frères, jusqu’à la résurrection des corps. »
(…)
« – En vérité, je te le dis : quiconque nourrit son oubli de mon lait virginal reçoit l’innocence ; qui s’en est nourri a soif aussitôt de la semence de mon phalle ; mais qui a bu de ma semence, ne songe même plus à m’invoquer ; car il ne craint plus de passer dans les milliers de modifications qui jamais n’épuiseront l’Être.
– O Baphomet ! J’ai faim, j’ai soif de ton lait, de ta semence, ne me laisse pas languir tel le cerf altéré !»
Pierre Klossowski (9 augustus 1905 – 12 augustus 2001)
Au miroir révélateur door Pierre Klossowski, 1986
De Amerikaanse schrijver Daniel Keyes werd geboren in Brooklyn, New York op 9 augustus 1927. Zie ook alle tasgs voor Daniel Keyes op dit blog en ook mijn blog van 9 augustus 2009 en ook mijn blog van 9 augustus 2010.
Uit: Flowers for Algernon
“Dr Strauss showed me how to keep the TV turned low so now I can sleep. I don’t hear a thing. And I still dont understand what it says. A few times I play it over in the morning to find out what I lerned when I was sleeping and I don’t think so. Miss Kinnian says Maybe its another langwidge. But most times it sound american. It talks faster then even Miss Gold who was my teacher in 6 grade.
I told Dr. Strauss what good is it to get smart in my sleep. I want to be smart when Im awake. He says its the same thing and I have two minds. Theres the subconscious and the conscious (thats how you spell it). And one dont tell the other one what its doing. They dont even talk to each other. Thats why I dream. And boy have I been having crazy dreams. Wow. Ever since that night TV. The late late late show.
I forgot to ask him if it was only me or if everybody had those two minds.
(I just looked up the word in the dictionary Dr Strauss gave me.
The word is subconscious. adj. Of the nature of mental operations yet not present in consciousness; as, subconscious conflict of desires.) There’s more but I still dont know what it means. This isnt a very good dictionary for dumb people like me.
Anyway the headache is from the party. My friends from the factery Joe Carp and Frank Reilly invited me to go to Muggsys Saloon for some drinks. I don’t like to drink but they said we will have lots of fun. I had a good time.”
Daniel Keyes (New York, 9 augustus 1927)
Matthew Modine als Charlie Gordon in de film uit het jaar 2000
De Russische schrijver Leonid Andreyev werd geboren op 9 augustus 1871 in Orjol. Zie ook alle tags voor Leonid Andreyev op dit blog en eveneens mijn blog van 9 augustus 2010 en eveneens mijn blog van 9 augustus 2009.
Uit: Lazarus (Vertaald door Abraham Yarmolinsky)
“When Lazarus rose from the grave, after three days and nights in the mysterious thraldom of death, and returned alive to his home, it was a long time before any one noticed the evil peculiarities in him that were later to make his very name terrible. His friends and relatives were jubilant that he had come back to life. They surrounded him with tenderness, they were lavish of their eager attentions, spending the greatest care upon his food and drink and the new garments they made for him. They clad him gorgeously in the glowing colours of hope and laughter, and when, arrayed like a bridegroom, he sat at table with them again, ate again, and drank again, they wept fondly and summoned the neighbours to look upon the man miraculously raised from the dead.
The neighbours came and were moved with joy. Strangers arrived from distant cities and villages to worship the miracle. They burst into stormy exclamations, and buzzed around the house of Mary and Martha, like so many bees.
That which was new in Lazarus’ face and gestures they explained naturally, as the traces of his severe illness and the shock he had passed through. It was evident that the disintegration of the body had been halted by a miraculous power, but that the restoration had not been complete; that death had left upon his face and body the effect of an artist’s unfinished sketch seen through a thin glass. On his temples, under his eyes, and in the hollow of his cheek lay a thick, earthy blue. His fingers were blue, too, and under his nails, which had grown long in the grave, the blue had turned livid. Here and there on his lips and body, the skin, blistered in the grave, had burst open and left reddish glistening cracks, as if covered with a thin, glassy slime. And he had grown exceedingly stout. His body was horribly bloated and suggested the fetid, damp smell of putrefaction.ut the cadaverous, heavy odour that clung to his burial garments and, as it seemed, to his very body, soon wore off, and after some time the blue of his hands and face softened, and the reddish cracks of his skin smoothed out, though they never disappeared completely. Such was the aspect of Lazarus in his second life. It looked natural only to those who had seen him buried.”
Leonid Andreyev (9 augustus 1871 – 12 september 1919)
Portret van Andreyev op een yacht door Ilya Repin, 192
De Engelse dichter en vertaler John Oldham werd geboren in Shipton Moyne (Gloucestershire) op 9 augustus 1653. Zie ook alle tags voor John Oldham op dit blog en eveneens mijn blog van 9 augustus 2010 en eveneens mijn blog van 9 augustus 2009.
The Careless Good Fellow (Fragment)
I mind not grave asses, who idly debate
About right and succession, the trifles of state;
We’ve a good king already: and he deserves laughter
That will trouble his head with who shall come after:
Come, here’s to his health, and I wish he may be
As free from all care, and all trouble, as we.
What care I how leagues with the Hollander go?
Or intrigues betwixt Sidney, and Monsieur D’Avaux?
What concerns it my drinking, if Cassel be sold,
If the conqueror take it by storming, or gold?
Good Bordeaux alone is the place that I mind,
And when the fleet’s coming, I pray for a wind.
The bully of France, that aspires to renown
By dull cutting of throats, and vent’ring his own;
Let him fight and be damn’d, and make matches and treat,
To afford the news-mongers, and coffee-house chat:
He’s but a brave wretch, while I am more free,
More safe, and a thousand times happier than he.
Come he, or the Pope, or the Devil to boot,
Or come faggot, and stake; I care not a groat;
Never think that in Smithfield I porters will heat:
No, I swear, Mr. Fox, pray excuse me for that.
I’ll drink in defiance of gibbet, and halter,
This is the profession, that never will alter.
John Oldham (9 augustus 1653 – 9 december 1683)
De Engelse schrijver Izaak Walton werd geboren in Stafford op 9 augustus 1593. Zie ook alle tags voor Izaak Walton op dit blog en eveneens mijn blog van 9 augustus 2010 en eveneens mijn blog van 9 augustus 2009.
An Elegie upon Dr. Donne (Fragment)
Our _Donne_ is dead; England should mourne, may say
We had a man where language chose to stay
And shew her gracefull power.I would not praise
That and his vast wit (which in these vaine dayes
Make many proud) but, as they serv’d to unlock
That Cabinet, his minde: where such a stock
Of knowledge was repos’d, as all lament
(Or should) this generall cause of discontent.
And I rejoyce I am not so severe,
But (as I write a line) to weepe a teare
For his decease; Such sad extremities
May make such men as I write Elegies.
And wonder not; for, when a generall losse
Falls on a nation, and they slight the crosse,
God hath rais’d Prophets to awaken them
From stupifaction; witnesse my milde pen,
Not us’d to upbraid the world, though now it must
Freely and boldly, for, the cause is just.
Dull age, Oh I would spare thee, but th’art worse,
Thou art not onely dull, but hast a curse
Of black ingratitude; if not, couldst thou
Part with _miraculous Donne_, and make no vow
For thee, and thine, successively to pay
A sad remembrance to his dying day?
Izaak Walton (9 augustus 1593 – 15 december 1683)
Portret door Jacob Huysman, National Portrait Gallery, London, z.j.