The Death-ego and the Vital Self: Romances of Desire in Literature and Psychoanalysis
Fairleigh Dickinson Univ Press, 2003 - 277 Seiten
This volume presents original views of the relationship between desire and romance. It begins by looking anew at the nature of desire, citing its central theoretical text as Freud's 'Beyond the Pleasure Principle'. It traces the struggle betwen myth and romance, between the ego on its way to death and the self in search of life, through close readings of poems and letters of John Keats and in detailed considerations of a series of novels including 'Frankenstein', 'Wuthering Heights', 'Jane Eyre', and 'Sons and Lovers'.
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From Child of the Imaginary to the Real Life of
The Listening Other and the Turn to Speech
Andere Ausgaben - Alle anzeigen
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Seite 79 - I met a lady in the meads, Full beautiful - a faery's child, Her hair was long, her foot was light, And her eyes were wild.
Seite 103 - His limbs were in proportion, and I had selected his features as beautiful. Beautiful ! Great God ! His yellow skin scarcely covered the work of muscles and arteries beneath ; his hair was of a lustrous black, and flowing ; his teeth of a pearly whiteness ; but these luxuriances only formed a more horrid contrast with his watery eyes, that seemed almost of the same colour as the dun white sockets in which they were set, his shrivelled complexion, and straight black lips.
Seite 104 - I thought I saw Elizabeth, in the bloom of health, walking in the streets of Ingolstadt. Delighted and surprised, I embraced her, but as I imprinted the first kiss on her lips, they became livid with the hue of death; her features appeared to change, and I thought that I held the corpse of my dead mother in my arms; a shroud enveloped her form, and I saw the grave-worms crawling in the folds of the flannel.
Seite 79 - And the harvest's done. 1 see a lily on thy brow With anguish moist and fever dew; And on thy cheeks a fading rose Fast withereth too.
Seite 61 - Her lips were red, her looks were free, Her locks were yellow as gold: Her skin was as white as leprosy, The Night-mare LIFE-IN-DEATH was she, Who thicks man's blood with cold. The naked hulk alongside came, And the twain were casting dice; "The game is done! I've won! I've won!
Seite 162 - All looked colder and darker in that visionary hollow than in reality: and the strange little figure there gazing at me, with a white face and arms specking the gloom, and glittering eyes of fear moving where all else was still, had the effect of a real spirit...
Seite 75 - Dilke upon various subjects; several things dove-tailed in my mind, and at once it struck me what quality went to form a Man of Achievement, especially in Literature, and which Shakespeare possessed so enormously — I mean Negative Capability, that is, when a man is capable of being in uncertainties, mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact and reason.
Seite 79 - She found me roots of relish sweet And honey wild and manna dew And sure in language strange she said I love thee true...
Seite 75 - ... it has no self— it is every thing and nothing— It has no character— it enjoys light and shade; it lives in gusto, be it foul or fair, high or low, rich or poor, mean or elevated— It has as much delight in conceiving an lago as an Imogen.
Seite 41 - This good little boy, however, had an occasional disturbing habit of taking any small objects he could get hold of and throwing them away from him into a corner, under the bed, and so on, so that hunting for his toys and picking them up was often quite a business.