Der Herbsttag by Johann Heinrich Voss

The Lone

"Shrill shriek the crows
that to the town in whirls roam:
soon come the snows -
weal unto him, who - has a home!

Now you stand still,
look back, alas! how far unfurled!
You fool! You will
escape the winter to the world?

The world - a gate
to thousand deserts, mute and chill!
Who lost his fate,
as you have lost, stands nowhere still.

Now you are pale
and cursed to wander winter’s rise,
like fumes prevail
that always seek the colder skies.

Seek, bird, and shriek
your desert-bird-song, worn and torn! -
And hide, you freak,
your bleeding heart in ice and scorn!

Shrill shriek the crows
that to the town in whirls roam:
soon come the snows -
woe unto him, who has no home!"

Nietzche attribution

“Now, what if Others were encapsulated in Things, in a way that Being towards Things were not ontologically severable, in Heidegger’s terms, from Being towards Others? What if the mode of Dasein of Others were to dwell in Things, and so forth? In the same light, then, what if the Thing were a Dublette of the Self, and not what is called the Other? Or more radically still, what if the Self were in some fundamental way becoming a Xerox copy, a duplicate, of the Thing in its assumedessence?”

notes on Heidegger

“Hiding my half existence behind the opaque walls of my skull, concealing it like a shameful disease, I did not consider the simple fact that the same thing could be occurring under other skullcaps, in other locked rooms.”

Heidegger

podbay.fm/p/the-partially-exami … 1375899230

apologetic me no

“Iife is a constant battle of always trying to better oneself. One wants to be better than she or he was the day before, and be better than those around her or him. Meno, from Plato’s dialogue Meno, is a perfect example of someone who is was concerned with being the best, especially when it leads to powerand having power. But heHowever, Meno was far less concerned with bettering himself than ensuring he was better than everyone those around him. This desire led him to ask the philosopher Socrates, “Can virtue be taught?” (Meno, 70a). Throughout Meno Socrates and Meno work towards trying to definedefining virtue and determine determining if it virtue can be taught to those who do not have it. At the beginning of the dialogue Meno is ignorant…show more content…
Socrates takes more of the stance of a teacher in Apology. In the Apology Socrates is placed on trial and is attempting to defend his actionshow he is viewed and his teaching practice. Socrates is attempting to teach, or prove, that he is an innocent man who does not deserve punishment for his actions. If Socrates is attempting to teach anything it is that he is an innocent man. Socrates explains that he tries to dismantle the “wise” men of Athens who say they are wise because wisdom comes from accepting your own ignorancethey do not accept their own ignorance. Socrates says that wisdom comes from accepting that you do not know. This is paralleled with Meno’s acceptance of his own ignorance in Meno, which was a moment where he gains wisdom. Socrates is not trying to learn anything in ApologyUnlike in Meno, there is nothing Socrates is trying to learn in the Apology. He asks fewer questions in Apology than he does in Meno because there is not a definite question he is looking for an answer tothe Apology. Perhaps if Socrates was asking more questionsSocrates avoids asking questions because it would take his credibilityquestioning would challenge his credibility away while he was on trial. The jury could not trust a man who is asking questions of his own innocence. The only time in the Apology where he does ask questions is when he attempts discredit one of his accusers, Meletus. Socrates points out Meletus’…show more content…
We can go on a search, but if we are not wise to the fact that we are ignorant of what we are looking for we cannot go on a true philosophical search. Meno could only continue to learn of the nature of virtue once he accepted and admitted his own ignorance towards virtue. Socrates helped him on his way, while not teaching him but learning alongside Meno. Socrates taught much more in the Apology, and the teaching was not successful because it did not prevent his sentence to death. Socrates’ understanding of his own ignorance led to his wisdom, which allowed him to face his death”

freestar

Greetings, Meno.

I have read some thirty to forty Heidegger books and I cannot imagine that he would have said what you quote him as saying.

Sorry.

Great Again

No problem, the sources are correct, the
I think the first is direct from him the other may have been cimmentary/analysis by a credible source. I will dig it up and post it, as soon as I can.

Catholic-Link

The Dark Night: Stanzas of the Soul

"One dark night,
fired with love’s urgent longings
— ah, the sheer grace! —
I went out unseen,
my house being now all stilled.

In darkness, and secure,
by the secret ladder, disguised,
— ah, the sheer grace! —
in darkness and concealment,
my house being now all stilled.

On that glad night,
in secret, for no one saw me,
nor did I look at anything,
with no other light or guide
than the one that burned in my heart.

This guided me
more surely than the light of noon
to where he was awaiting me
— him I knew so well —
there in a place where no one appeared.

O guiding night!
O night more lovely than the dawn!
O night that has united
the Lover with his beloved,
transforming the beloved in her Lover.

Upon my flowering breast
which I kept wholly for him alone,
there he lay sleeping,
and I caressing him
there in a breeze from the fanning cedars.

When the breeze blew from the turret,
as I parted his hair,
it wounded my neck
with its gentle hand,
suspending all my senses.

I abandoned and forgot myself,
laying my face on my Beloved;
all things ceased; I went out from myself,
leaving my cares
forgotten among the lilies.

– St. John of the Cross-

Soll ich dich mit einem Sommertag vergleichen?
Du bist schöner und gemäßigter:
Raue Winde schütteln die süßen Knospen des Mais,
Und Sommerpacht hat ein allzu kurzes Datum;
Manchmal zu heiß leuchtet das Auge des Himmels,
Und oft ist sein goldener Teint verdunkelt;
Und jede Messe von Messe nimmt irgendwann ab,
Durch Zufall oder den Lauf der Natur ungetrimmt;
Aber dein ewiger Sommer soll nicht verblassen,
Verliere auch nicht den Besitz der Schönheit, die du schuldest;
Noch soll der Tod prahlen, du wanderst in seinem Schatten,
Wenn du in ewigen Linien zur Zeit wachst:
Solange Menschen atmen oder Augen sehen können,
So lange lebt dies, und dies gibt dir Leben.

I understand You’re German and though I understand a scattering , You may want to translate, thanks, my translator is out.

Oh, got it in part.

The trees stand empty of fruit,
And yellow leaves blow into the valley…

Johann Heinrich Voss

Should I compare you to a summer day?
You are more beautiful and more temperate:
Harsh winds shake the sweet buds of the corn,
.and summer lease has too short a date;
Sometimes the eye of heaven shines too hot,

Comment: there are veritable similarities between the two verses. (With the Saint’s Dark night.)

The woman bent down to pick up the fallen pomegranate from the grass. It was ripe, it had burst open in the fall, stained her white dress. The vision of the laden barge, the pale island, the flowery meadow returned to her loving spirit along with the Creator’s words: 'This is my body…Take and

The heat of his night time fever was being brushed away entirely by the breeze as the light mists evaporated. The same process that was happening around him, was happening within him too. He was being reborn with the morning.

It was like a Stygian plain, like a vision of Hades: a land of shadows, vapours and water. Everything was going misty and disappearing like spirits. The moon was enchanting and pulling at the plain just as she enchants and pulls at the sea, drinking all that vast earthly dampness from the horizon with her silent, insatiable throat.

But the daily tasks and prayers of men, the ancient city tired from having lived too long, the ravaged marble and worn out bells, all those things oppressed by the weight of memories, all those perishable things were rendered humble in comparison with the tremendous blazing Alps that tore at the sky with their thousand unyielding spikes, a vast, solitary city that was waiting, perhaps, for a new race of Titans.

They remained silent, while the bronze tolling passed over their heads so powerfully that they seemed to hear it in the very roots of their hair like a quiver of their flesh.

He followed the glances of some of them like a ray of love directed at a woman seated somewhere, engrossed in her own thoughts, made languorous by secret delights and softened in some impure way, with a snow-white face in which her mouth opened like a hive damp with honey.

Gabriele D’Annunzio, The Flame = (Il Fuoco) -

You have not provided a source anywhere. As long as the source is missing, every quote is merely an assertion - without any proof.

Sorry.

No problem , my bad. The source was lost do to an unrecoverable phone’s memory being lost.

Found it:

"Hiding my half existence behind the opaque walls of my skull, concealing it like a shameful disease, I did not consider the simple fact that the same thing could be occurring under other skullcaps, in other locked rooms.
Sigizmund Krzhizhanovsky, Autobiography of a Corpse’

Sorry You are right it was not Heidegger

And no patent relevance appeared to exist to Heidegger.
But there must be something, otherwise put it down to mistake. (

That’s what I thought.

Thank you.

Stendhal Quotes

Only great minds can afford a simple style.

A very small degree of hope is sufficient to cause the birth of love. …

If you don’t love me, it does not matter, anyway I can love for both of us.

“A good book is an event in my life.” …

“One can acquire everything in solitude except character.” …
.
“There are as many styles of beauty as there are visions of happiness.” …

“I love her beauty, but I fear her mind.” …

“A novel is a mirror walking along a main road.”

“In the hairy backroom,
Where you’re filled with doubt,
And the junk nearly reaches the ceiling,
Even the cockroaches check out.”

Anonymous friemd, now gone

“journey out of the self,
There are many detours, washed-out interrupted raw places
Where the shale slides dangerously
And the back wheels hang almost over the edge
At the sudden veering, the moment of turning.
Better to hug close, wary of rubble and falling stones.
The arroyo cracking the road, the wind-bitten buttes, the canyons,
Creeks swollen in midsummer from the flash-flood roaring into the narrow valley.
Reeds beaten flat by wind and rain,
Grey from the long winter, burnt at the base in late summer.
– Or the path narrowing,
Winding upward toward the stream with its sharp stones,
The upland of alder and birchtrees,
Through the swamp alive with quicksand,
The way blocked at last by a fallen fir-tree,
The thickets darkening,
The ravines ugly.”

Theodore Roethke

After Great Pain …

"After great pain, a formal feeling comes –
The Nerves sit ceremonious, like Tombs –
The stiff Heart questions ‘was it He, that bore,’
And ‘Yesterday, or Centuries before’?

The Feet, mechanical, go round –
A Wooden way
Of Ground, or Air, or Ought –
Regardless grown,
A Quartz contentment, like a stone –

This is the Hour of Lead –
Remembered, if outlived,
As Freezing persons, recollect the Snow –
First – Chill – then Stupor – then the letting go:

Emily Dickinson"

“On writing
I think at first, until one has got the spout of this long disused fountain clear, it is better to let the water burst out when it will & so force away the accumulation of decayed vegetation, moss, slime & dead fish which are thick upon & around it.”

— Vivienne Haigh-Wood1