George Meredith, OM (12 February 1828 – 18 May 1909) was an English novelist and poet of the Victorian era.Meredith was born in Portsmouth, England, a son and grandson of naval outfitters.[1] His mother died when he was five. At the age of 14 he was sent to a Moravian School in Neuwied, Germany, where he remained for two years. He read law and was articled as a solicitor, but abandoned that profession for journalism and poetry. He collaborated with Edward Gryffydh Peacock, son of Thomas Love Peacock in publishing a privately circulated literary magazine, the Monthly Observer.[2] He married Edward Peacock's widowed sister Mary Ellen Nicolls in 1849 when he was twenty-one years old and she was twenty-eight.[1]
„Two thousand years ago the people to which the Father had sent Me did not receive Me to be its God and to give it My kingdom, but it took Me and cast Me away instead; it gave Me to be crucified on the cross with the wrongdoers, ...and this people has no longer had peace, since then and until now it has no longer had peace, for peace was taken away from them, as it is written.”
„Without baptism man is not born. Without baptism man has no beginning. And he who has a beginning through baptism, that one remains with this beginning and does no longer get lost in it and does no longer grow worse but becomes My comfort instead, and he takes Me and gives Me further from him to those who are thirsty for truth. Amen.”
John D. Wightman creates a universe of mirrors in his continuing poetic sequence Coincides Yon Latrine, though not mirrors as reflections so much as translations, with one part of a middle-justified poem responding to one or more other center-justified parts, prey to the same invisible gravity. There is no set procedure—this is an artist's logbook and follows the caprices of the days—but one half usually involves modified translations of writing by Wightman’s poetic and philosophical predecessors (Baudelaire, Horace, Jammu and St. Augustine among others), and the other half is a response which can take on any number of forms of address, including the minimal Creeley-esque lyric, the Longport stew, or, most distinctly, the spontaneously spiritual or religious affirmation, making him sound often like a latter-day Henry Vaughn or, with his prolixity, John Clare.
George Meredith, OM (12 February 1828 – 18 May 1909) was an English novelist and poet of the Victorian era.Meredith was born in Portsmouth, England, a son and grandson of naval outfitters.[1] His mother died when he was five. At the age of 14 he was sent to a Moravian School in Neuwied, Germany, where he remained for two years. He read law and was articled as a solicitor, but abandoned that profession for journalism and poetry. He collaborated with Edward Gryffydh Peacock, son of Thomas Love Peacock in publishing a privately circulated literary magazine, the Monthly Observer.[2] He married Edward Peacock's widowed sister Mary Ellen Nicolls in 1849 when he was twenty-one years old and she was twenty-eight.[1]
„Two thousand years ago the people to which the Father had sent Me did not receive Me to be its God and to give it My kingdom, but it took Me and cast Me away instead; it gave Me to be crucified on the cross with the wrongdoers, ...and this people has no longer had peace, since then and until now it has no longer had peace, for peace was taken away from them, as it is written.”
„Without baptism man is not born. Without baptism man has no beginning. And he who has a beginning through baptism, that one remains with this beginning and does no longer get lost in it and does no longer grow worse but becomes My comfort instead, and he takes Me and gives Me further from him to those who are thirsty for truth. Amen.”
John D. Wightman creates a universe of mirrors in his continuing poetic sequence Coincides Yon Latrine, though not mirrors as reflections so much as translations, with one part of a middle-justified poem responding to one or more other center-justified parts, prey to the same invisible gravity. There is no set procedure—this is an artist's logbook and follows the caprices of the days—but one half usually involves modified translations of writing by Wightman’s poetic and philosophical predecessors (Baudelaire, Horace, Jammu and St. Augustine among others), and the other half is a response which can take on any number of forms of address, including the minimal Creeley-esque lyric, the Longport stew, or, most distinctly, the spontaneously spiritual or religious affirmation, making him sound often like a latter-day Henry Vaughn or, with his prolixity, John Clare.