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Posted By: jenny jenny Name the writer or the book. - 06/05/13 04:19 AM
“The Bedouin owed no taxes, paid no landlord, recognized no borders. The Arabian peninsula from which he sprang, had remained remote and beyond the grasp of the conquests of Egypt and Rome. In the punishing desert a cruel culture evolved that matched the brutal dictates of nature. While the world of progress passed him by, the Bedouins survived largely by plundering the vulnerable. Strong sheiks with no more compassion than the blistering sun showed little mercy to the weak. The Bedouin was thief, assassin, and raider, and hard labor was immoral.”
Posted By: Faldage Re: Name the writer or the book. - 06/05/13 11:05 AM
"I against my brother, my brothers and I against my cousins, then my cousins and I against strangers"

Or, as the Berbers say, "Tomorrow there will be apricots."
Posted By: tsuwm Re: Name the writer or the book. - 06/05/13 01:40 PM
Is the answer simply to exclude both Uris and Keegstra from freedom of expression’s protection? Keegstra makes racist claims that play on the fears and prejudices of some members of the community. Uris’s narrative builds on ethnic and religious stereotypes, which may be assimilated by the reader without conscious, or at least careful, consideration. The line-drawing problem, however, is not resolved by redrawing the line in another place. The problem is much deeper than the unclear distinction between what Keegstra says and what Uris writes. Madame Justice McLachlin has not simply chosen a bad example with The Haj. Racial and other stereotypes are so deeply entrenched in our culture, our language, and our thinking that it is impossible to isolate clearly the offensive claims of Keegstra and the offensive stereotyping of Uris from ordinary public discourse. A wide range of expression, both extreme and ordinary, conveys racist attitudes and contributes to the spread or reinforcement of racist opinion in the community. This is the real line-drawing problem. It is much deeper than Madame Justice McLachlin supposes.

-Richard Moon
Posted By: olly Re: Name the writer or the book. - 06/05/13 10:31 PM
Good point.
Never let the facts get in the way of a good story eh!
Posted By: jenny jenny Name the writer or the book. - 06/06/13 01:29 AM
"It was late and everyone had left the cafe except an old man
who sat in the shadow the leaves of the tree made against the
electric light. In the daytime the street was dusty, but at
night the dew settled the dust and the old man liked to sit
late because he was deaf and now at night it was quiet and he
felt the difference. The two waiters inside the cafe knew that
the old man was a little drunk, and while he was a good
client they knew that if he became too drunk he would leave
without paying, so they kept watch on him."

Hmm. I thought this would be a easy one. Notice the effortless cluster of "d" words in this the opening paragraph. Like him or not the man was an artist.

To live long enough to be in the right place at the right time to make one's fortune. Yes, yes, hard work and talent make up the difference. They are crucial, and you know I'd never argue different. But the foundation of all lives is luck. Good or bad. Luck is life and life is luck. And it's leaking from the moment it lands in your hand.

edit: oh yeah, the previous was obviously Papa.. and so?
The idea, tsuwm, was to post a paragraph or two by writers who could be identified by their distinctive style or unique content. What would be the fun in googling them up?

I googled your excerpt up. The writer was Dennis Lehane. I didn't have fun.
it wasn't meant to be fun, it was meant to introduce something different.
Oh! Now I see.
You are right tsuwm, as I re-read his paragraph I too find Lehane's thoughts somewhat worthwhile and different.
Sorry.


Ok, who wrote this... (a translation)

By contrast, today, when the herd animal in Europe is the only one who attains and distributes honours, when “equality of rights” all too easily can get turned around into equality of wrongs— what I mean is into a common war against everything rare, strange, privileged, the higher men, the higher souls, the higher duty, the higher responsibility, the creative fullness of power and mastery—these days the sense of being noble, of willing to be for oneself, of being able to be different, of standing alone and of having to live by one’s own initiative—these are part of the idea “greatness,” and the philosopher will reveal something of his own ideal if he proposes “The man who is to be great is the one who can be the most solitary, the most hidden, the most deviant, the man beyond good and evil, lord of his virtues, a man lavishly endowed with will—this is precisely what greatness is to be called: it is able to be as much a totality as something multi-faceted, as wide as it is full.” And to ask the question again: today—is greatness possible?





"the man beyond good and evil" is kind of a give-away for this one.
Yeah, but you had to read way down before you read it. smile
Posted By: jenny jenny Name the Author or the Story - 06/19/13 02:14 AM

Doubtless, despite his suffering, he had fallen asleep while walking, for now he sees another scene--perhaps he has merely recovered from a delirium. He stands at the gate of his own home. All is as he left it, and all bright and beautiful in the morning sunshine. He must have traveled the entire night. As he pushes open the gate and passes up the wide white walk, he sees a flutter of female garments; his wife, looking fresh and cool and sweet, steps down from the veranda to meet him. At the bottom of the steps she stands waiting, with a smile of ineffable joy, an attitude of matchless grace and dignity. Ah, how beautiful she is! He springs forward with extended arms. As he is about to clasp her he feels a stunning blow upon the back of the neck; a blinding white light blazes all about him with a sound like the shock of a cannon--then all is darkness and silence!
Peyton Farquhar was dead; his body, with a broken neck, swung gently from side to side beneath the timbers of the Owl Creek bridge
Posted By: Faldage Re: Name the Author or the Story - 06/19/13 12:07 PM
Ha! I know that one. First saw it on TV. Memory says it was on The Twilight Zone, but memory is incredibly unreliable in such situations.
Posted By: jenny jenny Re: Name the Author or the Story - 06/19/13 04:53 PM
Very good association, FD.
This short story (I looked it up) was the last Twilight Zone episode produced.
Here is another excerpt in an attempt to drag your cluttered mind into the now of 2013...

[He unclosed his eyes and saw again the water below him. "If I could free my hands," he thought, "I might throw off the noose and spring into the stream. By diving I could evade the bullets and, swimming vigorously, reach the bank, take to the woods and get away home. My home, thank God, is as yet outside their lines; my wife and little ones are still beyond the invader's farthest advance."
As these thoughts, which have here to be set down in words, were flashed into the doomed man's brain rather than evolved from it the captain nodded to the sergeant. The sergeant stepped aside.]

I call TIME on this one. GEEZ! frown
An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge by Ambrose Bierce

Posted By: jenny jenny Re: Name the Author or the Story - 06/22/13 01:20 AM
Ok. This one should be easier...

... At that I suppose he raised up his face, a dimly pale oval in the shadow of the ship's side. But even then I could only barely make out down there the shape of his black-haired head. However, it was enough for the horrid, frost-bound sensation which had gripped me about the chest to pass off. The moment of vain exclamations was past, too. I only climbed on the spare spar and leaned over the rail as far as I could, to bring my eyes nearer to that mystery floating alongside.

As he hung by the ladder, like a resting swimmer, the sea lightning played about his limbs at every stir; and he appeared in it ghastly, silvery, fishlike. He remained as mute as a fish, too. He made no motion to get out of the water, either. It was inconceivable that he should not attempt to come on board, and strangely troubling to suspect that perhaps he did not want to. And my first words were prompted by just that troubled incertitude.

"What's the matter?" I asked in my ordinary tone, speaking down to the face upturned exactly under mine.

"Cramp," it answered, no louder. Then slightly anxious, "I say, no need to call anyone."

"I was not going to," I said.

"Are you alone on deck?"

"Yes."

I had somehow the impression that he was on the point of letting go the ladder to swim away beyond my ken--mysterious as he came. But, for the moment, this being appearing as if he had risen from the bottom of the sea (it was certainly the nearest land to the ship) wanted only to know the time. I told him. And he, down there, tentatively:

"I suppose your captain's turned in?"

"I am sure he isn't," I said.

He seemed to struggle with himself, for I heard something like the low, bitter murmur of doubt. "What's the good?" His next words came out with a hesitating effort.

"Look here, my man. Could you call him out quietly?"

I thought the time Had come to declare myself.

"I am the captain."

Time!

THE SECRET SHARER by Joseph Conrad


Posted By: jenny jenny Name the writer of the haiku - 06/24/13 04:58 PM
Since my house burned down
I now own a better view
of the rising moon.
_________________________Mizuta Masahide
_________________________
poet and samurai (1657-1723)



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