The Queen

Van Gogh's letter

1r:1

My dear Theo,

On the occasion of the first of May I wish you not too bad a year, and above all good health.1

How I’d like to be able to pass on some physical strength to you, I have a feeling of having too much of it at the moment. Which doesn’t prevent my mind from not yet being at all what it ought to be.

How right Delacroix was, who lived on bread and wine alone, and who succeeded in finding a way of life in harmony with his profession.2 But the inevitable question of money always remains – Delacroix had a private income. Corot too.

And Millet – Millet was a peasant and the son of a peasant.3 You’ll perhaps read with some interest the article I’m cutting out of a Marseille newspaper, because in it one glimpses Monticelli, and I find the description of the painting of a corner of the cemetery extremely interesting.4 But alas, it’s another still-lamentable story.

How sad it is to think that a painter who succeeds, even half succeeds, in his turn pulls along half a dozen artists who are even greater failures than himself.

However, think of Pangloss,5 think of Bouvard and Pécuchet,6 I know, then even that can be explained, but those people perhaps don’t know Pangloss, or else one forgets everything one knows about him under the inevitable bite of real despairs and great pains.

And what’s more, under the name of optimism we fall back into a religion which to me has the look of being the rear end of a kind of Buddhism. Nothing bad about that, quite the opposite, if you like.

I don’t much like the article on Monet in Le Figaro, how much better that other article in Le 19ième Siècle was! There one saw the paintings, and this one contains only banalities that make me melancholy.7  1v:2

Today I’m packing up a crate of paintings and studies.

There’s one which is flaking, onto which I’ve stuck newspapers – it’s one of the best and I think that when you look at it you’ll see more clearly what my studio, now foundered, could have been.8 This study, as well as a few others, was spoiled by damp during my illness.9

The water from a flood rose up to a few feet from the house10 and, more importantly, when I came back water and saltpetre were oozing from the walls because the house had been without a fire during my absence.

That had an effect on me, not only the studio having foundered, but even the studies which would have been the memories of it damaged, it’s so final, and my urge to found something very simple but durable was so strong. It was fighting against insurmountable odds, or rather it was weakness of character on my part, for I still have feelings of grave remorse difficult to define. I think that was the cause of my crying out so much during the crises, that I wanted to defend myself and could no longer manage to. For it wasn’t for me, it was for the very painters like the unfortunate one spoken of in the enclosed article that this studio could have been of use.

Anyway, there have been more than us before, Bruyasin Montpellier gave an entire fortune to it and an entire existence and without the least apparent result.

Yes – a cold room in a municipal museum where one sees a deeply saddened face and lots of fine paintings, where certainly one is moved, but alas moved as in a cemetery.11  1v:3

However, it would be difficult for one to walk in a cemetery demonstrating more clearly the existence of that Hope that Puvis de Chavannes painted.12

The paintings fade like flowers – thus even someDelacroixs had suffered, the magnificent Daniel,13 the Odalisques14 (quite different from those in the Louvre,15 it was in a single purplish range), but how that impressed me, those paintings that were fading there, little understood, it’s true, by the majority of visitors who look at Courbet and Cabanel and Victor Giraud &c.16

What are we, we painters? Well, I think that Richepin is often right, for example, when going at it point-blank he simply sends them back to the madhouse in his blasphemies.17

Now, though, I assure you that I know no hospital where one would want to take me for nothing, even supposing that I would take upon myself the expenses of my painting and would leave all my work to the hospital.

And that is perhaps, I don’t say a great but anyway a small injustice. I would be resigned if I thought that. If I was without your friendship I would be sent back without remorse to suicide, and however cowardly I am, I would end up going there. There, as you will see I hope, is the point where we’re permitted to protest against society and to defend ourselves.

You can be reasonably sure that the Marseille artist who committed suicide did not at all commit suicide from drinking absinthe, for the simple reason that nobody will have offered him any and that he wouldn’t have had  1r:4 the means to buy any. Besides, it won’t have been solely for his pleasure that he drank, but because being ill already he kept himself going that way.

Mr Salles has been to St-Rémy – they don’t want to allow me painting outside the establishment, nor to take me for less than 100 francs.

So this information is bad indeed. If I could get out of it by enlisting for 5 years in the Foreign Legion, I think I’d prefer that.

For on the one hand being locked up, not working I would recover with difficulty, on the other hand we’d be made to pay 100 francs a month all through a madman’s long life.

It’s serious, and what can one do, let’s think about it. But will they want to take me on as a soldier? I feel very tired by the conversation with Mr Salles, and I don’t quite know what to do. I myself advised Bernard to do his military service, so is it so astonishing that I should think of going to Arabia myself as a soldier.

I say this just in case; you shouldn’t blame me too much if I go. The rest is so vague and so strange. And you know how doubtful it is that one ever recovers what it costs to do painting. Besides, it seems to me that physically I am well.

If I can’t work there except under supervision! and in the establishment – is it by God worth paying money for that!

Certainly in the barracks I could then work as well and even better.

Anyway, I’m thinking, do the same, let’s be aware that everything always happens for the best in the best of worlds,18 that isn’t impossible. I shake your hand very firmly.

Ever yours,

Vincent

For me she cried excitedly, whiping her hand on her apron and taking the box, "Oh, Monsieur Toulouse, you are sweet". Inpulsively she leaned across the counter and peck him on the cheek.

Scorpian

Come sail away; because I am sailing away... Pattaya Thong I love this blog

Thus spoke Zarathustra The broken link of Zen Buddhism and Christianity...if there's any..conflicts or dispute..Once blasphemy against God was the greatest blasphemy; but God dies, and those blasphemers died along with him.

"The consequence of Ideas".

Shelley Kay will be fifteen years, she’s an adolescence who eventually learns how to cope up with life. One day in each week, when the secondary stopped work, two girls would help their father on the land, and this gave Nathan great pleasure. He like to see his gals beside him, to teach them the ways of the earth: how to sow; to transplant; to reap, to know the wholesome from the rotten, the unwelcomed reed from the paddy: and how to irrigate or drain the rice fields. In all this matters he had no master, and I think it could help him to impart knowledge to his sons, more skills though they were in other things and able to read and write in English better than any kids in town. May be he can tell her about something he called freedom of his mind which raged him for the thought of being God for this unlimited lessons with scars on every conceivable thought. Shaded with the coconut groves in an old villa near the old Portuguese colony, New Guinea. As she going to dive under the shallow sea in an atoll nearby, she’d think of her prefers drink of natural coconut’s milk the fresh one right on its so sweet puberty. The thing is that it would be a national remedy, not the coconut but where powers are assumed which have not been delegated, a nullification of the act is the rightful remedy that every state has a natural right in cases not within the compact, casus non foederis, Such as the countries in southeastern Asia called Asian has been doing , so did the Euro’s dominion to nullify of their own authority all assumptions of power by others within their limits; without this right they would be under the dominion absolute and unlimited, of whosoever must exercise the right of judgment for them; that nevertheless, this commonwealth, from motive of regard and respect for its co-States, has wished to communicate with them on the subject; that with them alone it is proper to communicate, they alone being parties to the compact and solely authorized to judge in the last resort of the power exercise under it. Resolved, that the said committee be authorized to communicate by writing or personal conferences, at any times or places whatever, with any person or persons who may be appointed by any one or more co-States to correspond or confer with them, and that they lay their proceedings before Shelley. There’s time when she learn how to go above the next session of assembly sound like this planted a thought of death on this feeling ran through her mind like a rushing of high blood pressure, this is a rite of old native language called in as narrator’ speech” the right of revolution”. It’s quiet primitive if not barbaric; the argument of life and death is too obscene to be shown; therefore she suspected, there a hidden reference. Even professional men of the tropic’s party were not free to unleash the probe from child molestation’s case under the frenzy of the alien and sedition laws. A judge in the presentment took notice of letters written to his constituents. Seeking to make political capital of the incident, her mommy prepared for the protest with the doubt on her mind over the case of…“Jouer double joul” as interpreted she said to play against.

God is to proof oneself on the live-span of immortal, the way we should recognized of Nietzsche’s hypothesis. Sober up on the verge of cruised boat along the Pacific, she’s tingled with the sense of vigilante while flipped over in somersault slid way down to the sea with only the snorkels upon her temple.

I have seethed with the thought of being as free as Nietzsche for himself to die as if dying is the only exit of life, but it wasn’t meant for everybody to die that way. So, mine is was limited to rewrite this book from the original Nietzsche’ verse. “A woman, young, beautiful like you, can get anything she wants in the world. But there is a right way and a wrong way. Remember, the price of the wrong way is too great. Go to some big city where you will find opportunities! Don't let people mislead you. You must be a master, not a slave. Be clean, be strong, defiant, and you will be a success.

<.Bridge (over troubled) Stairway

"Stairway To Heaven"

There's a lady who's sure all that glitters is gold
And she's buying a stairway to heaven.
When she gets there she knows, if the stores are all closed
With a word she can get what she came for.
Ooh, ooh, and she's buying a stairway to heaven.

There's a sign on the wall but she wants to be sure
'Cause you know sometimes words have two meanings.
In a tree by the brook, there's a songbird who sings,
Sometimes all of our thoughts are misgiven.
Ooh, it makes me wonder,
Ooh, it makes me wonder.

There's a feeling I get when I look to the west,
And my spirit is crying for leaving.
In my thoughts I have seen rings of smoke through the trees,
And the voices of those who stand looking.
Ooh, it makes me wonder,
Ooh, it really makes me wonder.

And it's whispered that soon if we all call the tune
Then the piper will lead us to reason.
And a new day will dawn for those who stand long
And the forests will echo with laughter.

If there's a bustle in your hedgerow, don't be alarmed now,
It's just a spring clean for the May queen.
Yes, there are two paths you can go by, but in the long run
There's still time to change the road you're on.
And it makes me wonder.

Your head is humming and it won't go, in case you don't know,
The piper's calling you to join him,
Dear lady, can you hear the wind blow, and did you know
Your stairway lies on the whispering wind.

And as we wind on down the road
Our shadows taller than our soul.
There walks a lady we all know
Who shines white light and wants to show
How everything still turns to gold.
And if you listen very hard
The tune will come to you at last.
When all is one and one is all
To be a rock and not to roll.

And she's buying a stairway to heaven.

Life's illusions are misleading,it's so good to be here and breathing.