id,comments,provenance,dictionary,created_at,reviewed_on,work_id,theme,context,updated_at,metaphor,text
19286,"",Reading,"",2011-10-25 20:54:53 UTC,,7120,"",Act I,2011-10-25 20:54:53 UTC,"""How will thy soul, cloven to its depth with terror, / Gape like a hell within!""","PROMETHEUS
[...]
Disdain! Ah no! I pity thee. What ruin
Will hunt thee undefended through wide Heaven!
How will thy soul, cloven to its depth with terror,
Gape like a hell within! I speak in grief,
Not exultation, for I hate no more,
As then ere misery made me wise. The curse
Once breathed on thee I would recall. Ye Mountains,
Whose many-voicèd Echoes, through the mist
Of cataracts, flung the thunder of that spell!
Ye icy Springs, stagnant with wrinkling frost,
Which vibrated to hear me, and then crept
Shuddering through India! Thou serenest Air,
Through which the Sun walks burning without beams!
And ye swift Whirlwinds, who on poisèd wings
Hung mute and moveless o'er yon hushed abyss,
As thunder, louder than your own, made rock
The orbèd world! If then my words had power,
Though I am changed so that aught evil wish
Is dead within; although no memory be
Of what is hate, let them not lose it now!
What was that curse? for ye all heard me speak.
(I, ll. 53-73)"
19292,"",Reading,"",2011-10-25 21:10:31 UTC,,7120,"",Act I,2011-10-25 21:10:31 UTC,"""Yet am I king over myself, and rule / The torturing and conflicting throngs within, / As Jove rules you when Hell grows mutinous.""","PROMETHEUS
Why, ye are thus now;
Yet am I king over myself, and rule
The torturing and conflicting throngs within,
As Jove rules you when Hell grows mutinous.
(I, ll. 491-2)"
19298,"",Reading,"",2011-10-25 21:31:56 UTC,,7120,"",Act I,2011-10-25 21:31:56 UTC,"""On a poet's lips I slept / Dreaming like a love-adept / In the sound his breathing kept; / Nor seeks nor finds he mortal blisses, / But feeds on the aëreal kisses / Of shapes that haunt thought's wildernesses.""","FOURTH SPIRIT
On a poet's lips I slept
Dreaming like a love-adept
In the sound his breathing kept;
Nor seeks nor finds he mortal blisses,
But feeds on the aëreal kisses
Of shapes that haunt thought's wildernesses.
He will watch from dawn to gloom
The lake-reflected sun illume
The yellow bees in the ivy-bloom,
Nor heed nor see, what things they be;
But from these create he can
Forms more real than living man,
Nurslings of immortality!
One of these awakened me,
And I sped to succour thee.
(I, 737-51)"
20134,"","Reading Katrin Pahl, Tropes of Transport: Hegel and Emotion (Northwestern UP, 2012), p. 235n.","",2013-04-22 16:27:18 UTC,,7379,"","Act II, scene iii",2013-04-22 16:27:47 UTC,"""The inner world, his microcosmus, is / The deep shaft, out of which they spring eternally."""," WALLENSTEIN (stops and turns himself round).
Are ye not like the women, who forever
Only recur to their first word, although
One had been talking reason by the hour!
Know, that the human being's thoughts and deeds
Are not like ocean billows, blindly moved.
The inner world, his microcosmus, is
The deep shaft, out of which they spring eternally.
They grow by certain laws, like the tree's fruit--
No juggling chance can metamorphose them.
Have I the human kernel first examined?
Then I know, too, the future will and action.
(II.iii)
[Wallenstein. (bleibt stehen und kehrt sich um)
Seid ihr nicht wie die Weiber, die beständig
Zurück nur kommen auf ihr erstes Wort,
Wenn man Vernunft gesprochen stundenlang!
—Des Menschen Taten und Gedanken, wißt!
Sind nicht wie Meeres blind bewegte Wellen.
Die innre Welt, sein Mikrokosmus, ist
Der tiefe Schacht, aus dem sie ewig quellen.
Sie sind notwendig, wie des Baumes Frucht,
Sie kann der Zufall gaukelnd nicht verwandeln.
Hab ich des Menschen Kern erst untersucht,
So weiß ich auch sein Wollen und sein Handeln.
]"