Excerpt from Watermark. I always adhered to the idea that God is time, or at least that His spirit is. Perhaps this idea was even of my own manufacture, but now I. 22 Mar Memory, death, love, beauty, dreams – Brodsky touches on all of these in this wonderfully evocative book, says PD Smith. As much a brooding self-portrait as a lyric description of Venice, poet Brodsky’s quirky, impressionistic essay describes his year romance with a city of.

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It is more episodic, a collection of essays than a narrative. It took place, somebody told me, in the palazzo of the Countess Polignac, and Miss Rudge wstermark playing the violin. Brodsky is a great poet, so when he sets to work to employ an image, he does it the right way.

Marble inlaid tables, porcelain figurines, sofas, chairs, the very parquet. It’s doubtful, though, that this democratic principle is operational in nature, where nothing enjoys a majority. Because if it were only watermmark broadcasts, then Ezra would be just another Tokyo Rose. Then there was that next morning. At any rate, objects don’t ask questions: Innocent of the world outside, of the West in particular, we didn’t know yet that style could be purchased wholesale, that beauty waetrmark be just a commodity.

The Art of Secrets and Surveillance.

Watermark – Joseph Brodsky – Google Books

A reflection cannot possibly care for a reflection. The whole thing felt like the Flight to Egypt, with her playing both the woman and the child, and me my namesake and the donkey; after all, it was January. No eBook available Macmillan Amazon. My husband and I took that to heart – we got lost a lot – but as we had been told, eventually you’ll come to water – not the small canals, but a big one or the sea and it won’t be hard to figure out where you are.

They were shedding, those curtains, and some of their folds exposed broad, bald, threadbare patches, as though the fabric felt it had come full circle and was now reverting to its pre-loom state. The surrounding beauty is such that one instantly conceives of an incoherent animal desire to match it, to be on a par.

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The City Nobel Laureate Joseph Brodsky Called Paradise

watermadk The boat’s slow progress through the night was hrodsky the passage of a coherent thought through the subconscious. Once I do, I know this book will be in my hands as I found it beautifully written. Surely not a saint, but perhaps not yet a full-scale dragon; hardly a Theseus, but not a maiden-starved Minotaur either.

For beauty is where the eye rests. Farsightedness here, however, would be counterproductive. The light brodsoy between the waves and the immaculate symmetries of pink marble commissioned by the doges long ago. Lobbing spanners into each other’s machinery is something democracy is awfully good at, and the leapfrogging of Italian cabinets has proved to be the city’s best insurance. Long before it succeeded, the silence would be restored.

And the city and its water left in Brodsky their mark and as he thought that love is a one way street that is where he has stayed. This is the way, and in my case the why, I set my eyes on this city.


The same bait could be used for moving the EEC headquarters here from Brussels and the European parliament brodeky Strasbourg. Yet monsters they are, if only because they are products of the city’s fantasy, since even at the zenith of this republic’s maritime might it controlled no territory where this animal could bdodsky found even in its wingless state.

Save for the yawning bartender and immobile Buddha-like [matrona] at the cash register, there was no one in sight. Splashing, glittering, glowing, broxsky, the element has been casting itself upward for so long that it is not surprising that some of these aspects eventually acquired mass, flesh, and grew solid Green ants build their grand nests out of leaves, which they pull and join together with silk.

Presumably cherubs, too, are part of the species’ evolution. The espresso at your cup’s bottom is the one black dot in, you feel, a miles-long radius. Or else take this as propaganda for Venetian boutiques, which do extremely brisk business in low temperatures.


This is in the end what brings one back bgodsky this citythe way the tide brings the Adriatic and, by extension, the Atlantic and the Baltic.

The question is why, and the answer is that beauty is always external; also, that it is the exception to the rule. In a certain line of work, and at a certain age, nothing is more recognizable than a lack of purpose.

At night, there is not much to do here. I am not looking for a naked maiden riding on a shell; I am looking for either a cloud or the waterrmark of a wave hitting the shore at midnight.

Baroque is too fuzzy round the edges, and I regret to say that there is, IMO, such a thing as too much gold leaf.

Watermark Joseph Brodsky Macmillan- Literary Collections – pages 4 Reviews In this brief, intense, gem-like book, equal parts extended autobiographical essay and prose poem, Brodsky turns his eye to the seductive and enigmatic city of Venice. During r A love brkdsky to a place, Venice, which the author a Russian-American fell in love with and went back to again and again. Diaguilev, Pound, and Stravinsky among others keep him company. Cynthia Krupat Designed by.

Yet no traveler comes here without a spare sweater, jacket, skirt, shirt, slacks, or blouse, since Venice is the sort of city where both the stranger and the native know in advance that one will be on display. But since, like his wife, he, too, seemed to be a member of the CP, the job, I concluded, was best left to a comrade. Happiness or unhappiness would simply come in attendance, although sometimes they’d stay longer than I did, as if waiting on me. I dread going there alone.

The surrounding beauty is such broesky one instantly conceives of an incoherent animal desire to match it, to be on a par.

After it, everything is a letdown.