Please enable JavaScript.
Coggle requires JavaScript to display documents.
MODERNISM, (Posterity), Rosabel suddenly pushed the hair back from her…
MODERNISM
Inaction
Passivity
VIRGINIA WOOLF, "On Being Ill"
-
Paralysis
-
KATHERINE MANSFIELD,
"The Daughters of the Late Colonel"
-
Childhood
-
KATHERINE MANSFIELD,
"Prelude"
KATHERINE MANSFIELD,
"At the Bay"
-
Unfulfilled Desire
-
Escape
KATHERINE MANSFIELD,
"The Tiredness of Rosabel"
-
Search for meaning
T.S. ELIOT,
"The Waste Land"
-
Time
Anachronism
-
ELIZABETH BOWEN,
Heat of the Day
Death
KATHERINE MANSFIELD,
"The Garden Party"
-
-
-
Ruins
H.D WELLS,
"The Walls Do Not Fall"
Closure
VIRGINIA WOOLF,
To The Lighthouse
History
Posterity
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS,
"Easter, 1916"
-
-
Catastrophe
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS,
"The Second Coming"
-
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS,
"Leda and the Swan"
-
-
-
-
-
- Rosabel suddenly pushed the hair back from her face, her forehead was hot... if those slim hands could rest one moment ... the luck of that girl!
Supposed they changed places. Rosa would drive home with him, of course they were in love with each other, but not engaged, very nearly, and she would say-- "I won't be one moment." (3)
- (Rosabel realised that her knees were getting stiff; she sat down on the floor and leant her head against the wall.) (3)
- So she slept and dreamed, and smiled in her sleep, and once threw out her arm to feel for something which was not there, dreaming still. (4)
- "Dod't you worry, Brs. Burnell. Loddie and Kezia can have tea with my chudren in the dursery, and I'll see theb on the dray afterwards."
The grandmother considered. "Yes, it really is quite the best plan. We are very obliged to you, Mrs. Samuel Josephs. Children, say 'thank you' to Mrs. Samuel Josephs."
Two subdued chirrups: "Thank you, Mrs. Samuel Josephs." (1-2)
- At the last moment Kezia let go Lottie's hand and darted towards the buggy.
"I want to kiss my granma good-bye again."
But she was too late. (2)
- "Oh, Kezia! Why are you such a messy child!" cried Beryl despairingly.
"Me, Aunt Beryl?" Kezia stared at her. What had she done now? She had only dug a river down the middle of her porridge, filled it, and was eating the banks away. But she did that every single morning, and no one had said a word up till now.
"Why can't you eat your food properly like Isabel and Lottie?" How unfair grown-ups are! (5)
- There was poor little Lottie, left behind again, because she found it so fearfully hard to get over the stile by herself. When she stood on the first step her knees began to wobble; she grasped the post. Then you had to put one leg over. But which leg? She never could decide. And when she did finally put one leg over with a sort of stamp of despair-- then the feeling was awful. (6-7)
- Kezia lay still thinking this over. She didn't want to die. It meant she would have to leave here, leave everywhere, for ever, leave-leave her grandma. She rolled over quickly.
"Grandma," she said in a startled voice.
"What, my pet!"
"You're not to die." Kezia was very decided.
"Ah, Kezia"-- her grandma looked up and smiled and shook her head-- "don't let's talk about it." (16)
- She had the most extraordinary feeling that she had just escaped something simply awful. But how could she explain to Constantia that father was in the chest of drawers? He was in the top drawer with his handkerchiefs and neckties, or in the next with his shirts and pyjamas, or in the lowest of all with his suits. He was watching there, hidden away-- just behind the door-handle-- ready to spring. (7)
- "I think it might be nice to have it fried," said Constantia. "On the other hand, of course, boiled fish is very nice. I think I prefer both equally well... Unless you... In that case--" (13)
- Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world...
- ...somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
- Now and in time to be,
Wherever green is worn,
Are changed, changed utterly:
A terrible beauty is born.
- How can those terrified vague fingers push
The feathered glory from her loosening thighs?
- The broken wall, the burning roof and tower
And Agamemnon dead.
- Did she put on his knowledge with his power
Before the indifferent beak could let her drop?
- She stood up in a sudden impulse of terror. Escape! She must escape! Frank would save her. He would give her life, perhaps love, too. (33)
- Could she still draw back after all he had done for her? Her distress awoke a nausea in her body and she kept moving her lips in silent fervent prayer.
...
"Come!"
No! No! No! It was impossible. Her hands clutched the iron in frenzy. Amid the seas she sent a cry of anguish! (34)
- Gabriel, leaning on his elbow, looked for a few moments unresentfully on her tangled hair and half-open mouth, listening to her deep-drawn breath. So she had had that romance in her life: a man had died for her sake. It hardly pained him now to think how poor a part he, her husband, had played in her life. (216)
- His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead. (218)
- When I came home to dinner my uncle had not yet been home. Still it was early. I sat staring at the clock for some time and, when its ticking began to irritate me, I left the room.
... I may have stood there for an hour, seeing nothing but the brown-clad figure cast by my imagination, touched discreetly by the lamplight at the curved neck, at the hand upon the railings and the border below the dress. (25-26)
- Gazing up into the darkness I saw myself as a creature driven and derided by vanity; and my eyes burned with anguish and anger. (29)
- "But we can't possibly have a garden-party with a man dead just outside the front gate."
... "And just think of what the band would sound like to that poor woman," said Laura.
"Oh, Laura!" Jose began to be seriously annoyed. "If you're going to stop a band playing every time some one has an accident, you'll lead a very strenuous life. I feel just as sympathetic." Her eyes hardened. She looked at her sister just as she used to when they were little and fighting together. "You won't bring a drunken workman back to life by being sentimental," she said softly. (7)
- "Mother, a man's been killed," began Laura.
"Not in the garden?" interrupted her mother.
"No, no!"
"Oh, what a fright you gave me!" Mrs. Sheridan sighed with relief, and took off the big hat and held it on her knees. (7)
- Considering how common illness is... it becomes strange indeed that illness has not taken its place with love, battle, and jealousy among the prime themes of literature. (32)
- Finally, among the drawbacks of illness as matter for literature there is the poverty of language. English... has no words for the shiver and the headache. (34)
- But in health the genial pretence must be kept up and the effort renewed-- to communicate, to civilise, to share, to cultivate the desert, educate the native, to work by day together and by night to sport. In illness this make-believe ceases. Directly the bed is called for, or, sunk deep among pillows in one chair, we raise our feet even an inch above the ground on another, we cease to be soldiers in the army of the upright; we become deserters. (36-37)
- there, as here, ruin opens
the tomb, the temple; enter,
there as here, there are no doors:
- your stylus is dipped in corrosive sublimate,
how can you scratch out
indelible ink of the palimpsest
of past misadventure?
- But we fight for life,
we fight, they say, for breath,
so what good are your scribblings?
this—we take them with us
beyond death; Mercury, Hermes, Thoth
invented the script, letters, palette;
... forever; remember, O Sword,
you are the younger brother, the latter-born,
your Triumph, however exultant,
must one day be over,
in the beginning
was the word.
- Unreal City
Under the brown fog of a winter noon
(WWI chemical weapon)
- A crowd flowed over London Bridge, so many,
I had not thought death had undone so many.
- I Tiresias, old man with wrinkled dugs
Perceived the scene, and foretold the rest—
I too awaited the expected guest.
- ...and had much ado to control her impulse to fling herself (thank Heaven she had always resisted so far) at Mrs. Ramsey's knee and say to her-- but what could one say to her? "I'm in love with you?" No, that was not true. "I'm in love with this all," waving her hand at the hedge, at the house, at the children. It was absurd, it was impossible. (23)
- "Yes, you were right. It's going to be wet tomorrow. You won't be able to go." And she looked at him smiling. For she had triumphed again. She had not said it: yet he knew. (126)
- ...she saw things truly. The room (she looked round it) was very shabby. She forebore to look at Mr. Tansley. Nothing seemed to have merged. They all sat separate. And the whole of the effort of merging and flowing and creating rested on her. ...and so, giving herself the little shake that one gives a watch that has stopped, the old familiar pulse began beating, as the watch begins ticking-- one, two, three, one, two three. And so on and so on, she repeated, listening to it, sheltering and fostering the still feeble pulse as one might guard a weak flame with a newspaper. (86)
- With a sudden intensity, as if she saw it clear for a second, she drew a line there, in the centre. It was done; it was finished. Yes, she thought, laying down her brush in extreme fatigue, I have had my vision. (211)
- There was a diffused gallantry in the atmosphere, and unmarriedness: it came to be rumoured about the country, among the self-banished, the uneasy, the put-upon and the safe, that everybody in London was in love-- which was true, if not in the sense the country meant. (102-103)
- "Two months ago..." he marvelled. "You say, two months ago? There's certainly nothing like thinking a thing over. Or did it simply happen to slip your memory till tonight? No, though; I don't think you mean me to take it you never thought of it twice. In that case, why not just have come and asked me? What would have been wrong with that?-- but that was too simple, apparently? Why, I suppose one will never know?"
She was unable to speak.
He went on: "That is what beats me. If it was tact, it's the funniest I've ever come across. Whatever did you think?-- that I might take umbrage?" (211)
- ALSO: The anachronism further lies in the way in which the novel jumps between periods of time, as well as in the order of the revealing of information, such as with Harrison's name being withheld during the entire first chapter before he is introduced properly in the second.
- A minute ago it was June. Now the weather is September. The crops are high, about to be cut, bright, golden.
November? Unimaginable. Just a month away. (85)
- There have been very many men and women in my life whom I hoped might, whom I wanted to, love me, he said. But I only, myself, ever, loved, in that way, just once. And it wasn't a person I fell in love with. No, not a person at all.
He tapped the cover of the book.
It is possible, he said, to be in love not with someone but with their eyes. I mean, with how eyes that aren't yours let you see where you are, who you are.
Elizabeth nodded as if she understood. (159-160)
- I love him, Elisabeth says.
Zoe nods.
Her mother rolls her eyes. (216)
- I'd like to work on the representation of representation in Pauline Boty's work.
You can't, the tutor said.
Why can't I? Elisabeth said.
There's not nearly enough material available on Pauline Boty, the tutor said.
I think there is, Elisabeth said.
There's next to no critical material, he said.
That's one of the reasons I think it'd be a particularly good thing to do, Elisabeth said. (156)
-