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“Only one thing remained reachable, close and secure amid all losses: language. Just like the blood that bursts from Your eye or mouth or ear, so your key changes. Be the first to learn about new releases! Does this very fact not place the poem already here, at its inception, in the encounter, in the mystery of encounter?”, “German poetry is going in a very different direction from French poetry.... Its language has become more sober, more factual. Passed through and could come to light again, “enriched” by all this.”, “Black milk of daybreak we drink it at sundown.”, “The poem is lonely.

Yes, language. Yes, language.

It went through. "; cited in: Ruth Golan (2006). “Collected Prose”, p.34, Psychology Press, Paul Celan (1972). Such realities are, I think, at stake in a poem.” -- Paul Celan, “Only one thing remained reachable, close and secure amid all losses: language. He was born as Paul Antschel to a Jewish family in Cernăuți, in the then Kingdom of Romania, and adopted the pseudonym "Paul Celan".. Only one thing remained reachable, close and secure amid all losses: language.

88 quotes from Paul Celan: 'Poetry is a sort of homecoming. It passed through and gave back no words for that which happened; yet it passed through this happening. "Reality is not simply there, it must be searched and won." Toward something open, inhabitable, an approachable you, perhaps, an approachable reality. “Only truthful hands write true poems. I cannot see any basic difference between a handshake and a poem. Perhaps, along with the I, estranged and freed here, in this manner, some other thing is also set free?” -- Paul Celan, “Reality is not simply there, it does not simply exist: it must be sought out and won.” -- Paul Celan, “How you die out in me: down to the last worn-out knot of breath you're there, with a splinter of life.” -- Paul Celan, “Count up the almonds, Count what was bitter and kept you waking, Count me in too: I sought your eye when you glanced up and no one would see you, I spun that secret thread Where the dew you mused on Slid down to pitchers Tended by a word that reached no one’s heart. Toward something standing open, occupiable, perhaps toward an addressable Thou, toward an addressable reality. Just like the wind that rebuffs you, Clenched round your word is the snow.”, “in the air, there your root remains, there, in the air”. In spite of everything, it remained secure against loss.” -- Paul Celan, “no one bears witness for the witness” -- Paul Celan, “who is invisible enough to see you” -- Paul Celan, “Poetry is a sort of homecoming.” -- Paul Celan, “They've healed me to pieces.” -- Paul Celan, “Spring: trees flying up to their birds” -- Paul Celan, “rush of pine scent (once upon a time), the unlicensed conviction there ought to be another way of saying this.” -- Paul Celan, “Poetry is perhaps this: an Atemwende, a turning of our breath. remain, flowering: It distrusts "beauty." p. 22; Aspen tree, your leaves glance white into the dark. Poems in this sense too are under way: they are making toward something. Toward what? the nothing--, the But it had to go through its own lack of answers, through terrifying silence, through the thousand darknesses of murderous speech. “Selected poems”, Penguin Books Ltd 27 Copy quote A poem, being an instance of language, hence essentially dialogue, may be a letter in a bottle thrown out to the sea with the-surely not always strong-hope that it may somehow wash up somewhere, perhaps on the shoreline of the heart. Each arrow you shoot off carries its own target into the decidedly secret tangle. Don't sign your name between worlds, surmount the manifold of meanings, trust the tearstain, learn to live. Its author stays with it. Celan (2011). In spite of everything, it remained secure against loss.”, “rush of pine scent (once upon a time), the unlicensed conviction there ought to be another way of saying this.”, “Poetry is perhaps this: an Atemwende, a turning of our breath. Improve yourself, find your inspiration, share with friends, Paul Celan, Rosemarie Waldrop (2003). Just like the blood that bursts from Your eye or mouth or ear, so your key changes. Toward something standing open, occupiable, perhaps toward an addressable Thou, toward an addressable reality.”, “There was earth inside them, and they dug.”, “Don't sign your name between worlds, surmount the manifold of meanings, trust the tearstain, learn to live.”, “Reachable, near and not lost, there remained in the midst of the losses this one thing: language. The strong clocks justify the splitting hour, hoarsely. It passed through and gave back no words for that which happened; yet it passed through this happening. It passed through and gave back no words for that which happened; yet it passed through this happening.

Poems in this sense too are under way: they are making toward something. Sourced quotations by the Romanian Translator Paul Celan (1920 — 1970) about time, drink and death.

It is perhaps here, in this one brief moment, that Medusa’s head shrivels and the automaton runs down? Paul Celan Quotes. . Loving Psychoanalysis.

Only truthful hands write true poems. Toward what? Yes, language. In this way, too, poems are en route: they are headed towards. It tries to be truthful.” -- Paul Celan, “A nothing we were, are, shall remain, flowering: the nothing--, the no one's rose.” -- Paul Celan, “The two heart-grey puddles: two mouthsfull of silence.” -- Paul Celan, “Tall poplars--human beings of this earth!” -- Paul Celan, “The heart hid still in the dark, hard as the Philosophers Stone.” -- Paul Celan, “A poem, being an instance of language, hence essentially dialogue, may be a letter in a bottle thrown out to the sea with the-surely not always strong-hope that it may somehow wash up somewhere, perhaps on the shoreline of the heart.

Read all the time, the understanding will come by itself. '” -- Paul Celan, “A poem, as a manifestation of language and thus essentially dialogue, can be a message in a bottle, sent out in the –not always greatly hopeful-belief that somewhere and sometime it could wash up on land, on heartland perhaps. Toward what? Number me among the almonds” -- Paul Celan, “With a changing key, you unlock the house where the snow of what’s silenced drifts.

“Collected Prose”, p.11, Psychology Press, Paul.

It, the language, remained, not lost, yes, in spite of everything.

', 'who is invisible enough to see you', and 'Only one thing remained reachable, close and secure amid all losses: language. Render me bitter.

Toward what? Its author stays with it. The heart hid still in the dark, hard as the Philosophers Stone. Number me among the almonds”, “With a changing key, you unlock the house where the snow of what’s silenced drifts. It is perhaps here, in this one brief moment, that Medusa’s head shrivels and the automaton runs down? It tries to be truthful. Toward something open, inhabitable, an approachable you, perhaps, an approachable reality. It is lonely and en route. In spite of everything, it remained secure against loss.' Changing your key changes the word That may drift with flakes.

A poem, as a manifestation of language and thus essentially dialogue, can be a message in a bottle, sent out in the –not always greatly hopeful-belief that somewhere and sometime it could wash up on land, on heartland perhaps. Free Daily Quotes. There's nothing in the world for which a poet will give up writing, not even he is a Jew and the language of his poems is German. “Glottal Stop: 101 Poems by Paul Celan”, p.5, Wesleyan University Press, Paul. It passed through and gave back no words for that which happened; yet it passed through this happening. "Tallow Lamp" in: Paul Celan (1972) Selected poems. German poetry is going in a very different direction from French poetry.... Its language has become more sober, more factual. #Bears #Witness “who is invisible enough to see you”-- Paul Celan There was earth inside them, and they dug. With wine and being lost, with less and less of both: I rode through the snow, do you read me I rode God far--I rode God near, he sang, it was our last ride over the hurdled humans. It, the language, remained, not lost, yes, in spite of everything. Toward what? “Collected Prose”, p.15, Psychology Press, Paul Celan, Michael Hamburger (1972). '”, “A poem, as a manifestation of language and thus essentially dialogue, can be a message in a bottle, sent out in the –not always greatly hopeful-belief that somewhere and sometime it could wash up on land, on heartland perhaps.

Who knows, perhaps poetry goes its way—the way of art—for the sake of just such a turn? Reachable, near and not lost, there remained in the midst of the losses this one thing: language.

no one's rose. Passed through and could come to light again, “enriched” by all this. Goodreads helps you follow your favorite authors. in the air, there your root remains, there, in the air. Share with your friends. Passed through and could come to light again, “enriched” by all this.” -- Paul Celan, “Black milk of daybreak we drink it at sundown.” -- Paul Celan, “The poem is lonely. Who knows, perhaps poetry goes its way—the way of art—for the sake of just such a turn? Celan (2011). "Aspen Tree. It is perhaps here, in this one brief moment, that Medusa’s head shrivels and the automaton runs down?

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