The Journey is Everything: A Journal of the Seventies

Duke University Press, 1983 - 208 páginas
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“What does one learn by taking a journey, any journey?” Helen Bevington asks. “I’ve taken a shaky trip through a decade (to Russia, to the mailbox, to bed) to the end of the 1970s, about which uncomplimentary and increasingly anxious remarks were made by us all--you, me, and the media.”
This is a book of journeys, to places--Russia, Hawaii, Italy, Yugoslavia, Greece, the South Seas, the Rhine, Australia, New Zealand, New Mexico--and to the classroom at Duke University where she was Professor of English until her retirement in 1976. Since everything is a journey, the book is concerned with travel of all kinds, in books, in memories, in people living and dead, a lighthearted search for Eden on this planet but a more serious search for survival in the troubled decade of the 1970s.

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Página 207 - For time is like a fashionable host That slightly shakes his parting guest by the hand, And, with his arms outstretch'd, as he would fly, Grasps in the comer: welcome ever smiles, And farewell goes out sighing.
Página 96 - With a more riotous appetite. Down from the waist they are centaurs, though women all above : but to the girdle do the gods inherit, beneath is all the fiends' ; there's hell, there's darkness, there is the sulphurous pit, burning, scalding, stench, consumption.
Página 110 - If I've killed one man, I've killed two— The vampire who said he was you And drank my blood for a year, Seven years, if you want to know. Daddy, you can lie back now. There's a stake in your fat black heart And the villagers never liked you.
Página 62 - A man who has not been in Italy is always conscious of an inferiority, from his not having seen what it is expected a man should see. The grand object of travelling is to see the shores of the Mediterranean.
Página 194 - It is an illusion that we were ever alive, Lived in the houses of mothers, arranged ourselves By our own motions in a freedom of air. Regard the freedom of seventy years ago. It is no longer air. The houses still stand, Though they are rigid in rigid emptiness.
Página 51 - Dame, at our door Drowned, and among our shoals, Remember us in the roads, the heaven-haven of the Reward : Our King back, oh, upon English souls! Let him caster in us, be a dayspring to the dimness of us, be a crimson-cresseted east, More brightening her, rare-dear Britain, as his reign rolls, Pride, rose, prince, hero of us, high-priest, 280 Our hearts' charity's hearth's fire, our thoughts
Página 143 - SEXUAL intercourse began In nineteen sixty-three (Which was rather late for me) — Between the end of the Chatterley ban And the Beatles
Página 144 - I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference. — ROBERT FROST, THE ROAD NOT TAKEN...
Página 76 - There was an Old Man of Thermopylae, who never did anything properly ; But they said, " If you choose to boil Eggs in your Shoes, You shall never remain in Thermopylae.
Página 178 - WHAT PEOPLE WILL PUT UP WITH THERE is nothing to which men, while they have food and drink, cannot reconcile themselves. They will put up with present suffering, with the certainty of death, with solitude, with shame, with wrong, with the expectation of eternal damnation. In the face of such things, they can not only be merry for the moment, but solemnly thank God for having brought them into existence.

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