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Hast thou found any likeness for thy vision?
O gardener of strange flowers, what bud, what bloom,
Hast thou found sown, what gather'd in the gloom?
What of despair, of rapture, of derision,
What of life is there, what of ill or good?
Are the fruits gray like dust or bright like blood?
Does the dim ground grow any seed of ours,
The faint fields quicken any terrene root,
In low lands where the sun and moon are mute
And all the stars keep silence? Are there flowers
At all, or any fruit?
-- Algernon Charles Swinburne (In memory of Baudelaire)
Source One
Post-Source LIICIVIIXi
Source Twelve
Source Seventy-Two Double-Backslash(Zed)(a)
Source Three
Source Zero
Derrida on the death of Gilles Deleuze:--
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The world seems filled with uninformed reporters. There is too much unintentional irony in the phrase, "father of deconstruction." |
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