Italyan ressam Giuseppe Santomaso'nun dogum yildonumu (26 Eylul 1907)
Donne Sedute, 1941
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Italyan ressam Giuseppe Santomaso'nun dogum yildonumu (26 Eylul 1907)
Donne Sedute, 1941
http://www.museonovecento.it/wp-cont...nne-sedute.jpg
Alman edebiyat elestirmeni, dusunur, kultur tarihēisi ve estetik kuramcisi Walter (Benedix Schönflies) Benjamin’in olum yildonumu (26 Eylul 1940)
"Seven kisi sevilenin sadece kusurlarina, bir kadinin sadece garipliklerine ve zayifliklarina baglilik duymaz, onu, kadinin yuzundeki kirisiklarla benler; eprimis elbiselerle carpik bir yuruyus butun guzelliklerden daha surekli ve daha acimasizca baglar. Herkes coktan gecirmistir bu tecrubeyi. Peki nicin? Duyumun yerinin kafada olmadigini, bir pencereyi, bir bulutu, bir agaci beynimizde degil, daha cok onlari gordugumuz yerde algiladigimizi ileri suren ogreti dogruysa, sevgiliye bakarken de oyle, kendi disimizda oluruz. Ama bu sefer eziyet veren bir gerilim ve hayranlik icinde. Duyum gozleri kamasmis bicimde, bir kus surusu gibi, kadinin yaydigi isik icinde ucusup durur. Nasil kuslar agacin gizleyen yapraklari arasinda korunak ararsa, duyumlar da golgeli kirisiklara, hos bir eda tasimayan el-kol hareketlerine ve sevilen govdenin goze carpmayan kusurlarina siginir, sinip gizlendikleri o yerlerde guven bulurlar. Ve gecip gidenlerden hicbiri hayranin ask atesinin tam da buralarda, kusurlu koselerde, kinanacak yerlerde yuvalandżiginin farkina bile varmaz." Tek Yon
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“Wer liebt, der hängt nicht nur an »Fehlern« der Geliebten, nicht nur an Ticks und Schwächen einer Frau, ihn binden Runzeln im Gesicht und Leberflecken, vernutzte Kleider und ein schiefer Gang viel dauernder und unerbitt- licher als alle Schönheit. Man hat das längst erfahren. Und warum? Wenn eine Lehre wahr ist, welche sagt, daß die Empfindung nicht im Kopfe nistet, daß wir ein Fenster, eine Wolke, einen Baum nicht im Gehirn, vielmehr an jenem Ort, wo wir sie sehen, empfinden, so sind wir auch im Blick auf die Geliebte außer uns. Hier aber qualvoll angespannt und hingerissen. Geblendet flattert die Empfindung wie ein Schwärm von Vögeln in dem Glanz der Frau. Und wie Vögel Schutz in den laubigen Verstecken des Baumes suchen, so flüchten die Empfindungen in die schattigen Runzeln, die anmutlosen Gesten und unscheinbaren Makel des geliebten Leibs, wo sie gesichert im Versteck sich ducken. Und kein Vorübergehender errät, daß gerade hier, im Mangelhaften, Tadelnswerten die pfeilgeschwinde Liebesregung des Verehrers nistet.”
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"He who loves is attached not only to the 'faults' of the beloved, not only to the whims and weaknesses of a woman. Wrinkles in the face, moles, shabby clothes, and a lopsided walk bind him more lastingly and relentlessly than any beauty. This has long been known. And why? If the theory is correct that feeling is not located in the head, that we sentiently experience a window, a cloud, a tree not in our brains but, rather, in the place where we see it, then we are, in looking at our beloved, too, outside of ourselves. But in a torment of tension and ravishment. Our feeling, dazzled, flutters like a flock of birds in the woman's radiance. And as birds seek refuge in the leafy recesses of a tree, feelings escape into the shaded wrinkles, the awkward movements and inconspicuous blemishes of the body we love, where they can lie low in safety. And no passer by would guess that it's just here, in what is defective and censurable, that the fleeting darts of adoration nestle."
Galli sair W. H. Davies'in olum yildonumu (26 Eylul 1940)
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Nedir bu hayat, bu dert, bu caba
Eger yoksa zamanin soyle durup bakmaya?
Yoksa eger bakmaya arasżndan dallarin
Dinlenmeye hakkin, hakki kadar koyunlarin.
Ormanlar icinden gecerken soyle durup bakmaya
Sincaplarin fistiklarini saklamasini topraga.
Zamanin yoksa gormege yildizlar dolu nehirleri
Gupegunduz pirildżyan, gecelerin gokleri gibi.
Yoksa zamanin eger guzeli seyretmege
Onun ayaklarini raksinda görmege.
Zamanin yoksa eger onun gozlerde baslayan
Gulumseyisini gormeye, dudaklarina yayilan.
Nedir bu hayat, bu dert, bu caba
Yoksa eger zamanin soyle durup bakmaya?
Ingiliz yazar Minette Walters’in dogum gunu (26 Eylul 1949)
“Zevk, gelincik cicegi gibidir: avuclaninca cicegi soluverir; ya da gole dusen kar taneleri gibidir: bir an suren inanilmaz bir bembeyazlik yansitir, ama hemen ardindan sonsuza dek yok olup gider.” Buz Odasindaki Olu
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“Pleasures are like poppies spread, you seize the flower, it's bloom is shed; or, like the snow-fall in the river, a moment white, then melts forever.”
Ispanyol asilli Amerikali filozof, sair ve yazar George Santayana'nin olum yildonumu (26 Eylul 1952)
“Maskeler, duygularin ayni anda hem sadik, hem gizli, hem de mukemmel olabilen donmus ifadeleri ve hayranlik uyandiran yankilaridir. Havayla temas halindeki canlilarin sert bir dis kabuk olusturmalari gerekir ve bu kabuklar kalp olmadiklari icin suclanmazlar; ancak kimi dusunurler nesne olmadiklari icin imgelere ve duygu olmadiklari icin sozlere kizarlar. Sozler ve imgeler kabuklar gibidir, en az kapladiklari maddeler kadar doganin bir parcasidirlar, ama daha cok goze hitap ederler ve gozleme daha aciktirlar. Maddenin sadece gorunus icin, yuzlerin sadece maskeler icin veya tutkularin siir ve erdem icin var oldugunu soylemek istemiyorum. Dogada hicbir sey baska bir sey icin var olmaz; tum bu evreler ve urunler varolus cemberinde esit paya sahiptirler.”
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"Masks are arrested expressions and admirable echoes of feeling, at once faithful, discreet, and superlative. Living things in contact with the air must acquire a cuticle, and it is not urged against cuticles that they are not hearts; yet some philosophers seem to be angry with images for not being things, and with words for not being feelings. Words and images are like shells, no less integral parts of nature than the substances they cover but better addressed to the eye and more open to observation. I would not say that substance exists for the sake of appearance, or faces for the sake of masks, or the passions for the sake of poetry and virtue. Nothing arises in nature for the sake of anything else; all these phases and products are involved equally in the round of existence."
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"Gecmisi hatirlayamayanlar, onu bir kere daha yasamak zorunda kalirlar."¯
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"Bugune kadar hic agIamamis genc adam bir barbar, onun agIadikIarina guImeyecek yasli bir adam ise budaIadir."¯
Terminator filminin Sarah Connor’i Amerikali aktris Linda Hamilton'in dogum gunu (26 Eylul 1956)
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Leonard Bernstein'in muzigini, Stephen Sondheim'in sozlerini yazdigi Bati Yakasi'nin Hikayesi (West Side Story - Storia lato ovest), promiyerini 26 Eylul 1957 tarihinde New York, Winter Garden Theater'da yapti.
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Ingiliz roman yazari, gazeteci, politik yorumcu ve televizyon kisiligi Will (William Woodard) Self’in dogum gunu (26 Eylul 1961)
“Ressam Simon Dykes, elinde bir kokteyl bardagiyla dikilirken, bir binanin tugla duvarinin ardindan cikan bir sekiz kureklinin, kursun renkli nehir boyunda kayarak ilerledikten sonra baska bir binanin beton duvarinin ardinda kaybolusunu izledi. Bazen insan orantilama yetenegini kaybeder, diye dusundu Simon, peki ya perspektif duygusunu kaybetmek nasil bir sey olurdu?
Ressamin felaketi…’
‘Ah, pardon.’ Simon irkildi, bir an icin yuksek sesle dusundugunu sanmisti.
Simon’a iyice sokulup, onunla beraber pencereden gozunu nehre dikmis olan George Levinson, ‘Ressamin felaketi bu’ diye tekrarladi.
‘Bu ressamin felaketi demek istiyorsun herhalde.’ Dalżp gitmiž olan George’un, eli cenesinde profiline dogru donen Simon, kolunu acarak galerinin bembeyaz duvarlarini gosterdi. Icerde sadece duvarlar yoktu elbette, buyuk dikdortgen tuvalleri ve surada burada gruplar olusturmus davetlileri de saymak gerekirdi. Hele davetliler; bir elleriyle dirseklerini tutmus konusurken insanlarin sosyal iliskilerini anlatan bir resim gibiydiler.” Buyuk Maymunlar
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“Simon Dykes, the artist, stood, rented glass in hand, and watched as a rowing eight emerged from the brown brick wall of one building, slid across a band of gray-green water, and then eased into the grey concrete of another building. Some people lose their sense of proportion, thought Simon, but what would it be like to lose your sense of perspective?
‘Disastrous for a painter…’
‘I’m sorry,’ Simon blurted, imagining for a second that he had spoken aloud.
‘They’re disastrous for a painter,’ reiterated George Levinson, who had come up by Simon’s elbow and now stood beside him, looking out of the plate-glass window that faced on to the river.
‘By that I take it you mean they’re disastrous for the painter.’ Simon half turned towards George’s ruminant profile and swept an arm to encompass the white space of the gallery, the big oblong canvases, and the posing private openeers, who stood about in loose groups, arms cocked, as if they were some tableau vivant intended to exhibit human social interactions.”