Science is history arranged according to the superstition and taste of the moment. The vocabulary of scholars has no wit, no salt. These heavy tomes have no soul, they are filled with distress.
Blaise CendrarsRead
Writing is to descend like a miner to the depths of the mine with a lamp on your forehead, a light whose dubious brightness falsifies everything, whose wick is in permanent danger of explosion, whose blinking illumination in the coal dust exhausts and corrodes your eyes.
Interpretation
Writing requires deep exploration and often presents a distorted view of reality.
In this quote, Blaise Cendrars compares writing to the perilous task of mining, emphasizing the challenges and risks involved in the creative process. The metaphor suggests that while writing can provide insight and illumination, it also comes with the potential for misrepresentation and the struggle against fatigue and danger, much like a miner faces with his lamp in the dark depths of a mine.
In practice
In a creative writing workshop to inspire students.
Science is history arranged according to the superstition and taste of the moment. The vocabulary of scholars has no wit, no salt. These heavy tomes have no soul, they are filled with distress.
My poor life This shawl Frayed on strongboxes full of gold I roll along with Dream And smoke And the only flame in the universe
Only a soul full of despair can ever attain serenity and, to be in despair, you must have loved a good deal and still love the world.
I'm not an extraordinary worker, I'm an extraordinary daydreamer. I exceed all my fantasies-even that of writing.
One's life, from being an exterior thing, grows inwards. Its intensity stays the same; and, d'you know, it's most mysterious, the corners in which the joy of living can sometimes hide away.
And at least in poetry you should feel free to lie. That is, not to lie, but to imagine what you want, to follow the direction of the poem.
In film, we sculpt time, we sculpt behaviour and we sculpt light.
I will not leave a corner of my consciousness covered up, but saturate myself with the strange and extraordinary new conditions of this life, and it will all refine itself into poetry later on.
Whether one show one's self a man of genius in science or compose a song, the only point is, whether the thought, the discovery, the deed, is living and can live on.
Jazz in itself is not struggling. That is, the music itself is not struggling... It's the attitude that's in trouble. My plays insist that we should not forget or toss away our history.
I write because I like to make things and the only things I am good at making things with are words.
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