Painting and Poetry: Form, Metaphor, and the Language of Literature

Przednia okładka
Bucknell University Press, 1985 - 248
This study addresses itself to the formal (in the topological sense) aspect of literature and literary words, and concludes that if logos (discursive langauge) and mythos (literary language) are indeed contiguous complementary forms, they are then essentially no different from those forms with which the painter or sculptor deals in the formation of his art object.

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Spis treści

The Painter Vision and Transformational Perception
23
The Poet Vision and Transformational Perception
41
Archetrope and Transformation
62
The Literary Art Object A Topological View
81
Literary Form The Topology of Metaphor
105
The Perception of Poetic Form
125
Logos and Mythos
148
Words and Signs
172
The Pleasure of Ulteriority
197
Notes
217
Works Cited
231
Index
243
Prawa autorskie

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Popularne fragmenty

Strona 28 - Sometime we see a cloud that's dragonish, A vapour sometime like a bear or lion, A towered citadel, a pendent rock, A forked mountain, or blue promontory With trees upon 't, that nod unto the world And mock our eyes with air.
Strona 52 - And what can these avail To lift the smothering weight from off my breast? My genial spirits fail; It were a vain endeavor, Though I should gaze for ever On that green light that lingers in the west; I may not hope from outward forms to win The passion and the life, whose fountains are within.
Strona 186 - How loved, how honoured once, avails thee not, To whom related, or by whom begot; A heap of dust is all remains of thee; 'Tis all thou art, and all the proud shall be. A
Strona 186 - Who lets so fair a house fall to decay, Which husbandry in honour might uphold Against the stormy gusts of winter's day And barren rage of death's eternal cold? O none but unthrifts, dear my love you know, You had a father, let your son say so. Here
Strona 52 - Though I should gaze for ever On that green light that lingers in the west; I may not hope from outward forms to win The passion and the life, whose fountains are within. The
Strona 208 - Peter Quince at the Clavier": Just as my fingers on these keys Make music, so the self-same sounds On my spirit make a music, too. Music is feeling, then, not sound; And thus it is that what I feel, Here in this room, desiring you, Thinking of your blue-shadowed silk, Is music.
Strona 64 - If I read a book [and] it makes my whole body so cold no fire ever can warm me I know THAT is poetry. If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know THAT is poetry. These are the only way I know it. Is there any other way.
Strona 64 - can warm me I know THAT is poetry. If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know THAT is poetry. These are the only way I know it. Is there any other way.
Strona 107 - it inclines to the impulse, it assumes direction with the first line laid down, it runs a course of lucky events, and ends in a clarification of life—not necessarily a great clarification, such as sects and cults are founded on, but in a momentary stay against confusion.
Strona 51 - Negative Capability, that is, when a man is capable of being in uncertainties, mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact and reason.

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