#mihail sebastian

[soracities]

Mihail Sebastian, Women (trans. Phillip Ó Ceallaigh)

[Text ID: "September has arrived, lovely in its weakening light."]

#q #lit #quotes #september #mihail sebastian #women #autumn dreaming #seasonals #reading #romanian lit #m #x

[petaltexturedskies]

Mihail Sebastian, from For Two Thousand Years

#typography #mihail sebastian #november

[thebluesthour]

Below, on the guesthouse terrace, chairs and shawls and white dresses can be seen. And beyond, the idyllic, clear, blue lake. A postcard.

Mihail Sebastian, Women (trans. Phillip Ó Ceallaigh)

#quotes #words #lit #literature #Mihail Sebastian #Women #romanian literature #works in translation #the world is blue at heart #m #queued

[mioritic]

Visited someone dear to my heart on his 116th birthday — and took the opportunity for an autumn stroll around the Jewish cemetery

#mihail sebastian #romania #yidishkeyt #my photo

[oldwinesoul]

“𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑚𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑜𝑓 𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑛 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑤𝑒𝑡 𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑠 -𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑚𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑎𝑠𝑡 𝑑𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑁𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑒𝑟.”

—Mihail Sebastian, For Two Thousand Years (trans. Philip ó Ceallaigh)

#poets on tumblr #dark academia #aesthetic #spilled poetry #words #spilled ink #spilled thoughts #19th century #vintage #love poem #dark acadamia aesthetic #dark academia books #renaissance art #renaissance #poetry #dark academia lovers #vintage classics #dark acdemia #mihail sebastian

[elizabethanism]

M. Sebastian: I tried working a few times, but everything seems superfluous. You are on a drowning ship. What is the point in keeping your watch-post? You do not organize disasters—you endure them. I never found my room, my books, and my papers more intolerable than I do now.

I’ve always believed that the only defeats and victories that matter in life are the ones you lose or gain on your own. I’ve always believed in my right to have a locked door between the world and me, and to hold the key myself.

Now look at it, kicked open. The doors are off their hinges, all entrances unguarded, all shelters uncovered. Being alone is a lost dignity. Perhaps a cured addiction.

We will remember our obligations as a species and we will live happily, over all heads, crushing some, saving others, at random, reintegrated into a zoological order from which we had escaped one by one long ago.

And who knows, perhaps a land that has given nothing but exquisite plants for decades, chrysanthemums and tuberoses, needs, in order to regenerate its creative forces, a furious outbreak of weeds, nettles, devil’s vines, wild laurels. The time for bitter plants is upon us.

(For Two Thousand Years)

#For Two Thousand Years #mihail sebastian #Work #Disaster #Victory #Time #Obligation

[yourintersection]

writings about november

#webweaving #november #poetry #writing #seasons #xiao yue shan #mary ruefle #mihail sebastian #poets #writers and poets

[dk-thrive]

“I was happy three days ago. Today I’m depressed. What happened? Nothing. An inner crutch slipped. Some poorly suppressed memory rose to the surface.

Mihail Sebastian, For Two Thousand Years (Other Press; September 12, 2017) (via Alive on All Channels)

#Mihail Sebastian #happy #sad #depressed #moody #emotional #up and down #past #memory #regret

[kitchen-light]

What I look for in objects and people is their very own sound. I am interested in what they have which is irreducible. The irreducible! It is my only way of sensing eternity.

Mihail Sebastian, “Fragments from a Found Notebook” (tr. Christina Tudor-Sideri), quoted here

#mihail sebastian #quotes #essays #words #found* #on time

[soracities]

Mihail Sebastian, Women (trans. Phillip Ó Ceallaigh) [transcript in ALT]

#q #lit #quotes #prose #mihail sebastian #women #dolor ante lucem #the shadow side of love #reading #romanian lit #m #x

[petaltexturedskies]

November the most beautiful month! Walking the streets, enveloped in a general lazy drizzle, shut off from the details around you, rendered impermeable, alone... You leave home with a pipe and your thoughts and walk the streets for hours, seeing nobody, stumbling into people, trees and shop windows, arriving home late, like a ship to port.

My time of the year, November. The month when I re-read books, leaf through papers, gather notes. It's a kind of hunger for work, for activity, for taking up all the old tasks once again.

And that damp organic smell in the morning when I go out—and the warm halos of lamplight in the evening when I return…

Mihail Sebastian, For Two Thousand Years (trans. Philip Ó Ceallaigh)

#mihail sebastian #november

[imaginemirage]

I was happy three days ago. Today I'm depressed. What happened? Nothing. An inner crutch slipped. Some poorly suppressed memory rose to the surface.

Mihail Sebastion

#mihail sebastian #quote #quotes #poetry #poem #poet #depression

[thequotehaven]

I've always believed that the only defeats and victories that matter in life are those you lose or win alone, against yourself.

Mihail Sebastian, For Two Thousand Years

#quotes #mihail sebastian #for two thousand years #words #defeat

[mioritic]

The editorial board of Cuvântul newspaper in 1933, amongst whom I recognize:

Nae Ionescu (front centre), Dem Theodorescu (two to the right of him), Perpessicius (second from the left, first row), Mircea Eliade (back centre, with glasses, facing forward), Mihail Sebastian (two right of him, in cardigan and jacket), Mama Lola (aka Lola Ionescu-Marița, to the left of Nae), Octavian Onicescu (to the left of Lola), Titu Devechi (to the right of Nae), and two rather humorous pasted-in faces.

in Cuvântul, 6 November 1933

#romanisme #mihail sebastian #mircea eliade #1933 #nae ionescu #romania

[oldwinesoul]

“Nothing destroys general ideas and conclusions more radically than being in love, since love reduces everything down to your own sensibility, reinventing superstitions, certainties, and doubts and values, obliging you to live them, to test them, to re-create them. There is something profoundly original in every love, a principle of birth, of creating all things from the beginning.”

—Mihail Sebastian, For Two Thousand Years (tr. by Philip o Ceallaigh)

#poets on tumblr #dark academia #aesthetic #spilled poetry #words #spilled ink #spilled thoughts #19th century #vintage #love poem #mihail sebastian

[elizabethanism]

Mihail Sebastian, on the characters of Wuthering Heights and their ghostly psychology:

"They are trapped inside their own being, wandering alone in the inner ocean of shadows, dead hopes and memories; people who have long lost contact with the outside world."

"Yet these prisoners do not abdicate. They continue—one unaware of the other—a secret dream, a hunt for images and happiness, a reliving of a life that is lost only in the current and apparent reality of facts, but which can be resumed in the essential reality of emotion."

"In this cave with flames and shadows, which is the soul of the people of Wuthering Heights, the emphasis that emotion places on things and events goes from an object to a detail and from a situation to a gesture."

"What is usually indifferent or ridiculous for us, becomes capital, disturbing and tragic there. Just like in a dream obsessed with organic desires, all things are signs in Wuthering Heights, [where the characters] can only cast an absent, unavailing glance on the outside world."

#Mihail Sebastian #Wuthering Heights #Memory #Ghost