Shakespeare and the Human Mystery
Paulist Press, 2003 - 134 pàgines
This vibrant and moving book investigates the mystery of our human nature, illuminating how Shakespeare's characters may be seen as expressions of what is deepest in us. Philip Newell introduces us to 'archetypes of the soul, ' such as the king and queen (seen for example in King Lear and Lady Macbeth); the lover and the friend (Juliet and Sir John Falstaff); the judge and the warrior (Shylock and King Henry IV); the seer and the mage (Hamlet and Pericles); and the fool and the contemplative (Bottom and King Richard II). The author's hope is that as we glimpse the depths of human nature through Shakespeare's eyes--take part in the journaling exercises included--we will become aware of a healing flow between our unconscious depths and conscious mind, enabling us to reconnect to what is truest in us and in all people. +
Què en diuen els usuaris - Escriviu una ressenya
No hem trobat cap ressenya als llocs habituals.
The Lover and the Friend
The Judge and the Warrior
The Seer and the Mage
The Fool and the Contemplative
All's allow Antony archetype asks awareness battle become begin believe body born Brutus Caesar calls closed comes confusions conscious contemplative death deep deeper deepest depths desire dimension dream energies entirely everything experience expressions face false Falstaff fear feel follows fool force further give given grace Hamlet hand healing hear heart heaven Henry hold human inner judge Julius justice King kingdom lack Lear less lives longings looks Lord lost lover Macbeth madness mage Measure Merchant mind murder mystery nature never night Othello ourselves outward pain passing queen realm relation relationship represents response Richard Romeo says seeks sense shadow side soldier sometimes soul sovereignty speak spirit strength suffering Tempest things thou Timon Troilus true truth turn Twelfth unconscious unknown unseen wants warrior well-being whole wrong
Pàgina 90 - What a piece of work is man! how noble in reason! how infinite in faculties! in form and moving how express and admirable! in action how like an angel ! in apprehension how like a god! the beauty of the world! the paragon of animals! And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust? man delights not me; no, nor woman neither, though by your smiling you seem to say so.
Pàgina 63 - Hath not a Jew eyes? Hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions? Fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer as a Christian is? If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?
Pàgina 87 - This is the excellent foppery of the world, that, when we are sick in fortune, — often the surfeit of our own behaviour, — we make guilty of our disasters the sun, the moon, and the stars...
Pàgina 44 - Romans, countrymen, and lovers ! hear me for my cause; and be silent that you may hear: believe me for mine honour; and have respect to mine honour, that you may believe : censure me in your wisdom ; and awake your senses that you may the better judge. If there be any in this assembly, any dear friend of Caesar's, to him I say, that Brutus' love to Caesar was no less than his.
Pàgina 103 - These our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits, and Are melted into air, into thin air, And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, The cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself, Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve, And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, Leave not a rack behind: we are such stuff As dreams are made on; and our little life Is rounded with a sleep..
Pàgina 8 - Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me ! You would play upon me ; you would seem to know my stops ; you would pluck out the heart of my mystery ; you would sound me from my lowest note to the top of my compass : and there is much music, excellent voice, in this little organ ; yet cannot you make it speak. 'Sblood, do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe ? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me.
Pàgina 124 - Mother, for love of grace, Lay not that flattering unction to your soul, That not your trespass, but my madness speaks : It will but skin and film the ulcerous place, Whilst rank corruption, mining all within, Infects unseen. Confess yourself to Heaven; Repent what's past ; avoid what is to come ; And do not spread the compost on the weeds, To make them ranker.
Pàgina 70 - Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more, Or close the wall up with our English dead ! In peace there's nothing so becomes a man As modest stillness and humility ; But when the blast of war blows in our ears, Then imitate the action of the tiger...
Pàgina 112 - tis not to come; if it be not to come, it will be now ; if it be not now, yet it will come : the readiness is all : Since no man, of aught he leaves, knows, what is't to leave betimes ?