Epstein Secrets

w York: Harper & Row, 1958), p. 186. aceThe elementary particles . things and facts.A A A 41. Andrade e Silva and Lochak, op. cit., p. 148 (quoting Goethe). aceDo not look . . . up the doctrine.a A A 42. Stevens, Necessaty Angel, p. 95. ficeTo confront fact . . . Of the thing.a A A 43 Stevens, aceLife

p. 270. ficeThe god that . . the question itself a A A 26 Beckett, The Unnamable, op. cit., p. 390 aceThe thing said . . . a common source.fi A A n Shakespeare, aceA world full. . . signifying nothing" A A 28. E. E. Cummings, / (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1969), p. 69. in any number of . . . ficep

r, they are worth learning about and exploring. They stand out as trailguides to a fresh sensibility in the same way Nijinsky’s 20" century dances or Goethe’s 19" century poetry once did. We flip back and forth between real and virtual in our every day lives now, popping our head from screen to street. O

lague, strangled as heretical, burnt up in a library fire, or dissolved by some military misfortune. This is why, for instance, we have almost all of Shakespeare and why we are missing so much of Sappho. Widespread knowledge changed this. A solid, inarguable base endured. “If 1 have seen further,” Newton famou

particular, sun-scorched, caterpillar-chewed clover found outside your house in an atlas. No, you aimed—if you were a genius natural philosopher like Goethe, Albinus, or Cheselden—to observe nature but then to perfect the object in question, to abstract it visually to the ideal. Take a skeleton, view it t

ommunity, must say something substantially different from the community’s previous common stock of information.” This was why “schoolboys do not like Shakespeare,” he concluded: The Bard’s couplets may depart starkly from random bitstreams, but they had nonetheless become all too familiar to the sense-making p

particular, sun-scorched, caterpillar-chewed clover found outside your house in an atlas. No, you aimed—if you were a genius natural philosopher like Goethe, Albinus, or Cheselden—to observe nature but then to perfect the object in question, to abstract it visually to the ideal. Take a skeleton, view it t

ommunity, must say something substantially different from the community’s previous common stock of information.” This was why “schoolboys do not like Shakespeare,” he concluded: The Bard’s couplets may depart starkly from random bitstreams, but they had nonetheless become all too familiar to the sense-making p