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Expression given to some thought one was pondering, may suggest to the more contemplative that one’s heart did abandon it. To send it out, as an establishment of a fact, ejects the thought from the shelter wherein it might continue revolving, with some facets not yet heard from emboldened to speak for themselves, pipe up, and share in someone’s inner speech that is (it is a cogent definition) thinking itself under a further name. Precipitous would this debut then look when the thought has been translated into exteriority, its launching observed from another outside. No longer, so one may gather,… [read more!]
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Some words are in order here about this compilation which puts together both phases of the Musicuratum project:… [read more!]
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On the Track of Total Warfare
Total war, upon its debut in the summer months of 1914, rendered unfamiliar and strange the entire preceding century which, one now saw and knew… [read more!]
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Concerning the Point of a Letter
It was written as news of Germany’s invasion of Belgium reached London, on the fourth and fifth of August 1914, setting into motion the United Kingdom’s… [read more!]
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Two Miniatures
Now entered into their hundredth year are two brief texts of 1924. When dusted off, after a century, at the outset each appears to be a mere vignette, yet then not the sheen of insignificance is met with, but something like fingers tracing a small figure in the air, less a keyhole than a window onto a tiny scene; looking through it, the longer these views are focused on, and indeed, one may surmise, prior to the writing-up both texts’ authors did dwell on them at length, the further will they enlarge and elongate themselves out of the ordinary: interrupting… [read more!]
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Franz Kafka’s Last Text, One Hundred Years On
So full a year as this has not lacked for anniversaries: during the summer one such centenary did… [read more!]
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Sestercentenary: Werther
Respites invite some confusion; otherwise they would not have earned the term. Amidst a respite one finds oneself… [read more!]
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Notes of Caution (Part Two)
Discarding the trash in one’s head is easier said than… [read more!]
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Another Incautious Coda
Situations on occasion satirise themselves; too many words, or even… [read more!]
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An Incautious Coda
More than one eulogy of violence graces the preface by… [read more!]
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Themistocles on Andros
Over against all the masses, messes, and missiles of today,… [read more!]
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How to Undo Things with Words
Bright the prospects are not for words; once taken in hand as weapons, beginnings may no longer pulse in them. As though human speech too is beaten, persuasion cast out of its proper temple. How the senseless murk of noise then encircles everything! — while, naturally enough, responses to this impotence of the persuasive do display the colour of desperate embitterment.


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The Sense of Things Between
Love of words does not end by killing the thing it loves, in some cases. Worse still is when indifference sets in. Philologists, bored, forgetful, heedless, decline to notice the beloved’s qualities, were they even seen and heard to begin with. Words’ tempos, temperaments, tempers, their levity and humour, their gait: attractions cease to beckon, attention no longer is bestowed, or the lovers turn away, there being in these fields innumerably more than the proverbial thousand and three.
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