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About Me Member Mad Scientist ilkerkaanMale/Unknown Recent Activity Deviant for 3 Years
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Von Prometheus berichten vier Sagen:
Nach der ersten wurde er, weil er die Götter an die Menschen verraten hatte, am Kaukasus festgeschmiedet, und die Götter schickten Adler, die von seiner immer wachsenden Leber fraßen.
Nach der zweiten drückte sich Prometheus im Schmerz vor den zuhackenden Schnäbeln immer tiefer in den Felsen, bis er mit ihm eins wurde.
Nach der dritten wurde in den Jahrtausenden sein Verrat vergessen, die Götter vergaßen, die Adler, er selbst.
Nach der vierten wurde man des grundlos Gewordenen müde. Die Götter wurden müde, die Adler wurden müde, die Wunde schloß sich müde.
Blieb das unerklärliche Felsgebirge. - Die Sage versucht das Unerklärliche zu erklären. Da sie aus einem Wahrheitsgrund kommt, muß sie wieder im Unerklärlichen enden.



There are four legends concerning Prometheus:
According to the first he was clamped to a rock in the Caucasus for betraying the secrets of the gods to men, and the gods sent eagles to feed on his liver, which was perpetually renewed.
According to the second Prometheus, goaded by the pain of the tearing beaks, pressed himself deeper and deeper into the rock until he became one with it.
According to the third his treachery was forgotten in the course of thousands of years, forgotten by the gods, the eagles, forgotten by himself.
According to the fourth everyone grew weary of the meaningless affair. The gods grew weary, the eagles grew weary, the wound closed wearily.
There remains the inexplicable mass of rock. - The legend tries to explain the inexplicable. As it comes out of the substratum of truth it has in turn to end in the inexplicable.



Prometheus'tan söz eden dört söylence bulunuyor elimizde: Birincisine göre, Prometheus, tanrilara ihanet ederek sirlarini insanlara ilettigi için Kafkas daglarindaki kayaliklara kiskivrak zincirlenmistir ve tanrilarin yolladigi kartallar tarafindan karacigeri yenmektedir; ama Prometheus'un cigeri yendikçe büyümekte, büyüdükçe yine kartallara yem olmaktadir.
Ikinci söylenceye göre, Prometheus, kartallarin acimasiz gagalamasinin acisiyla, zincirlendigi kayalarin giderek daha içerisine gömülmüs, sonunda kendisi de bir kaya parçasina dönüsmüstür.
Üçüncü söylenceye göre, Prometheus'un tanrilara ihaneti aradan geçen binyillar içinde unutulmus, kartallar unutmus, Prometheus'un kendisi unutmustur.
Söylencenin dördüncüsüne göre, anlamini yitirip havada kalan olaydan bezilmis, tanrilar bezmis, kartallar bezmis, yara bezgin, kapanmistir.
Kala kala geriye açiklanamayan kayalar kalmistir. -Söylence, açiklanamayani açiklamaya ugrasiyor. Bir gerçeklik temelinden çikip geldigi için, yine ister istemez açiklanamaz'da sonlanacaktir.



Prometheus / Franz Kafka

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We dance for laughter, we dance for tears, we dance for madness, we dance for fears, we dance for hopes, we dance for screams, we are the dancers, we create the dreams.

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What Colors are Shadows?

Sat Aug 29, 2009, 3:02 PM
The artist is the creator of beautiful things. To reveal art and conceal the artist is art's aim. The critic is he who can translate into another manner or a new material his impression of beautiful things.
The highest as the lowest form of criticism is a mode of autobiography. Those who find ugly meanings in beautiful things are corrupt without being charming. This is a fault.

Those who find beautiful meanings in beautiful things are the cultivated. For these there is hope. They are the elect to whom beautiful things mean only beauty.

There is no such thing as a moral or an immoral book. Books are well written, or badly written. That is all.

The nineteenth century dislike of realism is the rage of Caliban seeing his own face in a glass.

The nineteenth century dislike of romanticism is the rage of Caliban not seeing his own face in a glass. The moral life of man forms part of the subject-matter of the artist, but the morality of art consists in the perfect use of an imperfect medium. No artist desires to prove anything. Even things that are true can be proved. No artist has ethical sympathies. An ethical sympathy in an artist is an unpardonable mannerism of style. No artist is ever morbid. The artist can express everything. Thought and language are to the artist instruments of an art. Vice and virtue are to the artist materials for an art. From the point of view of form, the type of all the arts is the art of the musician. From the point of view of feeling, the actor's craft is the type. All art is at once surface and symbol. Those who go beneath the surface do so at their peril. Those who read the symbol do so at their peril. It is the spectator, and not life, that art really mirrors. Diversity of opinion about a work of art shows that the work is new, complex, and vital. When critics disagree, the artist is in accord with himself. We can forgive a man for making a useful thing as long as he does not admire it. The only excuse for making a useless thing is that one admires it intensely.

All art is quite useless.


Picture of Dorian Gray
-Preface-
by Oscar Wilde
(1854-1900)

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