With the rise of humanism and modern critical scholarly practices in subsequent centuries, texts began to be treated as material objects to be fixed and plumbed for meaning.
To the arguments of Huxley and Tyndall against traditional religion, Yeats had no answer until literature and the other arts came to the rescue.
Majoring in English, the sales pitch now goes, will help you craft your soul.
For some friends of the library, no defense of the stacks is necessary.
Books, reading, and literature cultivate “a way of being in time.”
Who could survive such a feast, let alone digest it?
Why do dreams, aside from those that prove uncannily prophetic, not befit our biography—whereas intentions, ambitions, even madness, do?
That Edvard Munch never met Friedrich Nietzsche is one of the great missed encounters of the modern age.
A translation of English to English presumes that ambiguity of language is always a flaw—but it’s not.
Some spooky stories for Halloween.
Cormac McCarthy gives us 500 pages of idiosyncratic wordplay without even cheap narrative excitement. Who does he think he is? Joyce? Faulkner? Melville? Well, yes.
The question for Silence is not whether another world exists but how such a recognition should affect our lives here.
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