Change blog content - from 15 June 2009 and until June 1, 2010.
I must apologize to those who were here the texts of varied tone, but the creation of a website dedicated to Mireille Sorgue, and the spirit that prevails, led me write (Multiple citations in support) a long column in which fans of The Lover Letters to discover the story of a grabbing - literary and spiritual - and thus, the circumstances that led me to end publication of this correspondence I was the dedicatee. However, from chapter to chapter, take shape the figure of a "little sister" which, with the powers that gives him his status entitled heritage, is committed to ... exist, to flout the expressed wishes of the One whose glory it is to serve the memory. "Sole heir" of all the writings of Mireille Sorgue according to his will repeatedly stated in the letters I received from her during the last five years of his life, I felt obliged to testify to what was since his death.
Aside from 'Mireille sorgue "
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XVII - another word
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This column ends, I could dedicate to all those wishing to serve with dignity the memory of a creator, clashed survivors of raptors and obtuse. But writing these pages, I kept thinking of having a humble and tender of Michele Letters , classmate Mirella in philosophy class, to whom I pay tribute, as she understood, loved, sister of election - as evidenced by these excerpts from letters I received - after , or to whom I could say it was "my shared memory."
"Today I read overflow Time 1 because of a verse that arises every time I think of you:" I was so close to you that I 't cold near the others. " I know enough to be there for you continue to live? I wish with all my strength ... "
" When you tell me about your pain, it's mine too ... Do you speak it, I ask you. Later maybe I can talk about strength and courage.
"When you do feel more strength to continue, you say that I am also like you to give up. "
" I felt the need to feel closer to those who loved Mireille like to keep it still. "
"If I just sometimes worry, this is certainly not to forget, but no longer able to speak in terms Authentic 2, of that that opened its door with a name full of tenderness and love which I read in the gesture or glance. "
This column brought me two letters. Women. (They authors write more readily than men.) In the first, it surprised me, so reluctant to use the I in my writings, I have broken my reserve. It is true that had not yet read Chapter X ("The Will") where we see a being who has the foresight to a premature end, forcefully prescribing its duties to the survivor (ignoring, unforgivable mistake, his own kin) :
" Fidelity is a way to live someone to say - not only the physical fidelity, but respect his wishes guessed, their accomplishment [... ] If you lost myself, I took refuge in you, and I'd ask you to revive me, that we extend as if nothing had changed [...] " (October 23, 1963)
" Respect his wishes guessed." If I can not claim to have always guessed what she would have liked, I at least fairly busy, well-read enough to know what would have put in revulsion and rage. Also, for more than twenty years, I have sent to "women" and to the rightful owner who took title to their home with a memory, several hundred pages indignant. In vain, I said I was dead speak, and I knew if, after so many years, she would not have changed his mind?
opened a site in order to "contribute to the influence of the work. "
Having understood from the earliest contributions, what was it shamelessly deploy the silliness, a presumption that is not afraid of ridicule, a good conscience foolproof, and that we would efforts to domesticate a figure which had, to what degree, asserted, imposed in short, intrinsically poor, this site would furthermore mean, given the aversion and ostracism of his host,
I saw no recourse but to use similar means to finally reveal what it was, without fear of contradiction.
I agree: loyalty is a virtue fallen into disuse. So I wrong to think that time does not allow the survivors to deal with "accommodation" even though the latter provisions were made in definitive terms.
And then, suppose I believe founded the password Diderot taken by Cocteau: "There is no love, there are only proofs of love. "
I wrote this column in mind readers who, for lack of lighting according to the facts, had not taken the full measure of this "considerable bandwidth . So I received the following lines with the feeling that my successive restatements were not superfluous:
"I do not know when will end your column, but I already know that I can no longer read the letters the same eye, equipped with keys that you have provided us I am now slower, more careful, as if I deciphered line by line what you Mireille wrote, weighing every word, scrutinizing the interlining.
"Because it seems to me the better known, more deeply, I will be more sensitive to the perpetual alternation over days, its joys, its malaise, its confusions; of What have increased sympathy for her, and as vigilant as we would like the continually happy.
"Similarly, I could not reopen The Lover without receiving between these texts and extracts of letters that you give us, a whole set of matches as if they were justified each other, confirming that it was a good , whatever she writes, and so similar to that you talk!
"I had no idea until now what difficulties she met to be fully herself, she knew the heartbreak to have to in order to achieve this, those that oppose 'she loved. Over his face grows, becomes clearer, it becomes more engaging, so to read, it was a sort of contentment: "That it was therefore worthy love! "A dull rage, dejection, mingled with the pleasure of the mind:" How can we love so badly, then disappeared in his lifetime, a daughter, a sister like that? And what a mess for a work which, whatever she has sometimes said she wanted to stay! ""
Shall I say that group by themes extracts of his correspondence, I saw myself painting with a renewed radiance, renewed vigor, a personality which, to quote a remark of Saint-John Perse: "... united, honor to be, the sovereignty of love! "
nature is expansive, enthusiastic, it was, from childhood, eager to live. Up before dawn for a taste of beginnings and a sense of privilege, she greets during his morning walks in the countryside, the rain soaked ferns and morels, jay and the snake, she comes to terms with all four elements and first with the wind - which she said mad.
Similarly, early as it manifests its rejection of social conventions, family, and it behaves in person who, having to do, can not dissipate in vain, languishing in occupations, the time allotted to him.
Outraged by injustice, stupidity, malice, and jealousy that the student, the student had to suffer too bright - so she did nothing to deserve the kindness of his masters - his contempt for teachers disappointing, unworthy of teaching, could go to insolence.
His father had instilled exemplary, it will make this virtue, without any ostentation, the basis for its actions. Vanity it is, remains unknown, describing the self-defeating to the satisfaction soon. If a noble pride ... leads the student anxious not to disappoint those who put their trust in it, it falls to the "glory" within the meaning of the seventeenth century, all being of good race had to acquire and preserve.
It goes without saying that the mix of lively self-esteem and humility does not leave her when she writes. Thus we see the judge with extreme severity of its pages yesterday. (Actually, the word 'extreme defines in all circumstances, and he agrees with his fascination for the avowed limits, even putting his life at risk.)
If the reader of the chronicle has been observed, at Mireille, these traits, I am less sure that he detected the scale, the ingenuity of his generosity. "It's not a girl, wrote her mother is a Saint Bernard. It was not nineteen years, and the hours she spent in service to others would have a total honor in an ordinary life as an adult. I fear that we did very badly brought up. "
She had to defend the encroachment of the family, but never ceased to speculate how far, even an unreasonable price, would be most appreciated by everyone.
Lacking time to work, it was to rescue a comrade in the effort. A student absent from a course, the prays there to lend his notes? Scrupulous in-born, she spent several hours at the copy to which are perfectly readable and understandable to the reader. (No doubt she will be a few months before his death, a revolt against the student model, conform to the wishes of everyone, but subversion will fizzle.)
As for his graciousness, his amiability, his intelligence of the heart, its mother wrote me that they did exclaim over and over until his death: "Ah! Mireille's smile! "
abridge But, my point rotating at a hagiography that she had not tasted. And we know that the real may not be likely.
Thus ends this column that I did not intentionally write: Mireille Sorgue site has just been created, it seemed, from reading the biography (see Chapter I the Golden Legend) it can not be intrinsically poor, even ridiculous (or, in other words: "so insignificant that it deserves to be ridiculed). It was therefore important to address them, which I did, with the constant desire to return to basics.
1. Series poems by Paul Eluard composed after the death of Nush, his companion.
*** * * 2. One would like to find such qualms in which the has known her twenty years ...!
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