H.P.Lovecraft

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H.P.Lovecraft

Post by Guest on 15/5/2014, 19:53

Jedan od onih genijalnih pisaca koji su priznanje stekli dugo nakon svoje smrti.... Osebujne i tajanstvene osobnosti, bezgranične mašte i sposobnosti prikazivanja najdubljih ljudskih strahova i sumnji, kao i njihova utjelovljenja u najgroznijim zamislivim formama...

"THAT IS NOT DEAD WHICH CAN ETERNAL LIE, AND WITH STRANGE AEONS EVEN DEATH MAY DIE."


http://www.hplovecraft.com/writings/

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Re: H.P.Lovecraft

Post by Vegvísir on 15/5/2014, 20:02

:tu 


Jesi čitao ono što je Michel Houellebecq pisao o njemu?



Na kraju knjige se nalazi rječnik lovecraftovskih pojmova i tri njegove kratke priče: Snovi u vještičjoj kući, Iza zidova sna i On.

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Re: H.P.Lovecraft

Post by Vegvísir on 15/5/2014, 20:05

I da, zaboravila sam nadodati:

Iä! Iä! Cthulhu Fhtagn!  :]

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Re: H.P.Lovecraft

Post by Guest on 15/5/2014, 21:08

@Vegvísir wrote::tu 


Jesi čitao ono što je Michel Houellebecq pisao o njemu?



Na kraju knjige se nalazi rječnik lovecraftovskih pojmova i tri njegove kratke priče: Snovi u vještičjoj kući, Iza zidova sna i On.
Ne, biografija?

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Re: H.P.Lovecraft

Post by Vegvísir on 15/5/2014, 22:20

Više nekakav osvrt na lik i djelo uz dosta biografskih podataka. 
Meni osobno jako zanimljivo pisano.

Evo, čak sam se natjerala da odem do police, uzmem knjigu i pretipkam koji citat.  :^0 

Rijetko je koje biće do te mjere impregnirano, do kosti ispunjeno apsolutnim nijekanjem svake ljudske ambicije. Univerzum je samo prolazni raspored elementarnih čestica. Prijelazni stupanj prema kaosu. Koji će na kraju pobijediti. Ljudska rasa će nestati. Pojavit će se druge rase, i isto tako nestati. Nebesa će biti hladna i prazna, i kroz njih će prolaziti samo slaba svjetlost napola mrtvih zvijezda. Koje će također nestati. Sve će nestati. A ljudski su postupci isto toliko slobodni i lišeni smisla kao i slobodno kretanje elementarnih čestica. Dobro, zlo, moral, osjećaji? Čiste "viktorijanske izmišljotine". Samo egoizam postoji. Hladan, neukrotiv i rascvjetan.


Naravno, život nema smisla. Ali nema ga ni smrt. I to je jedna od stvari od kojih se ledi krv u žilama pri otkrivanju Lovecraftova univerzuma. Smrt njegovih junaka nema nikakva smisla. Ne donosi nikakva objašnjenja. Ne dopušta zaključivanje pripovijesti. Nesmiljeno, HPL uništava svoje likove ne sugerirajući ništa više od čupanja udova lutki. Indiferentan prema tim bijednim peripetijama, kozmički strah i dalje raste. Širi se i oblikuje. Veliki Cthulhu polako se budi.

Tko je veliki Cthulhu? Raspored elektrona, kao i mi. Lovecraftov je užas striktno materijalan. Ali vrlo je moguće da, slobodnom igrom kozmičkih sila, veliki Cthulhu raspolaže moćima i snagom postupaka bitno većim od naših. Što, a priori, nije nimalo utješno.


Ljudi kraja 20. stoljeća, taj očajnički kozmos je apsolutno naš. Taj odvratni univerzum u kojem se strah širi u koncentričnim krugovima sve do neizrecivog otkrića, taj univerzum u kojem je naša jedina zamisliva sudbina da budemo usitnjeni i prožderani, mi apsolutno prepoznajemo kao naš mentalni univerzum. A za one koji jednim brzim i preciznim ubodom sonde žele spoznati stanje duha vremena, Lovecraftov je uspjeh već sam o sebi simptomatičan. Danas, više nego ikad, možemo donijeti tu deklaraciju principa kojom počinje Arthut Jeremyn: "Život je odvratna stvar, a u drugom planu, iza onog što znamo, pojavljuju se svjetla demonske istine koji ga čine još tisuću puta odvratnijim."

Paradoks je, međutim, u tome što je nama draži taj univerzum, koliko god odvratan bio, nego naša stvarnost. Po tome smo do kraja čitatelji kakve je Lovecraft očekivao. Čitamo te priče u točno istom stanju duha kakvo ga je natjeralo da ih napiše. Sotona ili Nyarlathotep, nije važno, ali nećemo više podnijeti ni jedne dodatne minute realizma. I, ako već moramo sve reći, Sotona je pomalo devalvirao svojim dugotrajnim odnosima sa sramotnim skretanjima naših uobičajenih grijehova. Bolji je onda Nyarlathotep, hladan, zao i nehuman poput leda. Subb-haqqua Nyarlathotep!


Howard Phillips Lovecraft predstavlja primjer svima onima koji žele promašiti život i na kraju uspjeti u svome djelu. Premda se u tom drugom pogledu za rezultat ne može jamčiti. Provodeći politiku posvemašnjeg neangažiranja u odnosu na životne realnosti, izlažemo se opasnosti pada u posvemašnju apatiju, pa da i prestanemo pisati; i njemu se to zamalo dogodilo, i to nekoliko puta. Druga je opasnost samoubojstvo, s kojim valja naučiti pregovarati; tako je Lovecraft uvijek, godinama, pri ruci držao bočicu cijanida. To se može iskazati iznimno korisnim, pod uvjetom da izdržite.


Pod kraj života, dogodit će mu se da izrazi žaljenje, ponekad i duboko, pred usamljenošću i propasti svoga života. Ali to će žaljenje ostati, ako se to može tako reći, teoretsko. Jasno će se prisjećati razdoblja svog života (kraj adolescencije, kratka i odlučna intermisija braka) u kojima je mogao skrenuti prema onome što se naziva srećom. Ali zna da se vjerojatno nije bio u stanju ponašati drugačije. I konačno, on smatra, kao i Schopenhauer, da se nije "baš loše iskazao".

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The dreamer is still asleep.

Moon's milk spills from my unquiet skull and forms a white rainbow.
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Re: H.P.Lovecraft

Post by kic on 15/5/2014, 22:47

svaka čast :D
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Re: H.P.Lovecraft

Post by Guest on 15/5/2014, 23:32

Hvala, Vegvisir, to moram pročitati ako nađem.  :D

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Re: H.P.Lovecraft

Post by Vegvísir on 16/5/2014, 00:21

Ma nema na čemu.   :D 

Pretipkala sam samo nekoliko onih koje sam brzinski zapazila, čisto eto, da imate približan uvid u to što i kako je pisano.

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Re: H.P.Lovecraft

Post by jack_reacher on 16/5/2014, 12:04

wow,ručno napisani citati,to nisam radio 10-ak god. otkad sam prepisivao lyricse s ploča da vježbam pisanje i formatiranje texta,Vegvisir porasla si mi u očima inače H.P. Lovecraft mi uz E.A.Poa i Stephen Kinga najdraži autor strave i majstor napetosti,svi gotičari ga obožavaju(što ne znači da sam i ja got,khm!).. :O  :tu


The Raven

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more.'

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore -
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore -
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -
This it is, and nothing more,'

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,' said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the door; -
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!'
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!'
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,' said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
'Tis the wind and nothing more!'

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door -
Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as `Nevermore.'

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered -
Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before -
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.'
Then the bird said, `Nevermore.'

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
`Doubtless,' said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore -
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of "Never-nevermore."'

But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore -
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking `Nevermore.'

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
`Wretch,' I cried, `thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he has sent thee
Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! -
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted -
On this home by horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore -
Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore -
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore -
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels name Lenore?'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!
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Re: H.P.Lovecraft

Post by kic on 16/5/2014, 13:44

morao si oskvrnuti temu c/panjem :|

where is the Ban button :^0
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Re: H.P.Lovecraft

Post by Vegvísir on 16/5/2014, 16:26

:^0 

Evo još koji ručno uneseni citat da neutraliziram  :^0 

(samo vi stavljajte materijale, na koji god način i u kojem god obliku  :x )


Lovecraftovi se junaci odvajaju od čitavog života, odriču se svake ljudske radosti, postaju čisti intelekt, čisti duh okrenut samo jednom cilju: istraživanju spoznaje. Na kraju istrage čeka ih užasavajuće otkriće: od močvara Louisiane do ledenih ravnica antarktičke pustinje, u  srcu New Yorka kao i u mračnim dolinama Vermonta, sve objavljuje univerzalnu prisutnost Zla.

"Niti ne treba misliti da je čovjek najstariji ili posljednji od gospodara Zemlje, ili da obični život i njegova tvar hode sami. Stari bijahu, Stari jesu, i Stari će biti. Ne u prostorima koje mi znamo, već između njih. Oni hode svečani i drevni, nedimenzionalni i za nas nevidljivi."

Zlo ima više lica; instinktivno ga obožavaju niske i degenerirane populacije koje su njemu u slavu skladale užasavajuće himne.

"Yog-Sothoth je vrata. Yog-Sothoth je ključ i čuvar vrata. Prošlost, sadašnjost, budućnost, sve su jednou Yog-Sothothu. (...) Kao gadost ćete ih spoznati. Njihova je ruka na vašim grlima, a ipak vi Njih ne vidite; a njihova nastamba jedno je s vašim čuvanim pragom. Yog-Sothoth je ključ vrata kroz koja se sfere sreću. Čovjek sada vlada tamo gdje su Oni jednom vladali; Oni će uskoro vladati gdje čovjek sad vlada. Nakon ljeta je zima, i nakon zime ljeto. Oni čekaju strpljivi i moćni, jer ovdje će Oni ponovo vladati."


Svaka velika strast, bila ona ljubav ili mržnja, na kraju dovodi do autentičnog djela. To se može žaliti, ali valja priznati: Lovecraft je stajao na strani mržnje; mržnje i straha. Univerzum koji je on intelektualno pojmio kao indiferentan, postao je estetski neprijatelj.
Njegov vlastiti život, koji je mogao biti samo slijed banalnih iluzija, postaje kirurška operacija, i obrnuto slavlje.

Djelo njegove zrelosti ostaje vjerno fizičkoj nemoći njegove mladosti, istovremeno je mijenjajući. Tu je duboka tajna Lovecraftova genija, i čisti izvor njegove poezije: uspio je svoju odvratnost prema životu pretvoriti u aktivno neprijateljstvo.

Ponuditi alternativu životu u svim oblicima, uspostaviti trajnu opoziciju, stalni sukob prema životu: to je najviša misija pjesnika na ovoj Zemlji. Howard Phillips Lovecraft ispunio je tu misiju.

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Words, words, words, words! You may as well listen to the birds.

The dreamer is still asleep.

Moon's milk spills from my unquiet skull and forms a white rainbow.
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Re: H.P.Lovecraft

Post by Guest on 19/11/2015, 16:16

@Vegvísir wrote:I da, zaboravila sam nadodati:

Iä! Iä! Cthulhu Fhtagn!  :]



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Re: H.P.Lovecraft

Post by Vegvísir on 4/3/2016, 19:30

Najs, hvala! :tu

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Words, words, words, words! You may as well listen to the birds.

The dreamer is still asleep.

Moon's milk spills from my unquiet skull and forms a white rainbow.
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Re: H.P.Lovecraft

Post by kic on 4/3/2016, 19:38

Lovecraft u stripu?

:fapfapfap
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Re: H.P.Lovecraft

Post by Guest on 6/7/2016, 19:31

http://www.openculture.com/2016/06/23-hours-of-h-p-lovecraft-stories.html

:) Super, onako ukljuciti prije spavanja i slusati pricice za laku noc.


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Re: H.P.Lovecraft

Post by Vegvísir on 6/7/2016, 22:43

:tu Uvijek se veselim ponovno malo vratiti Lovecraftu :)

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Words, words, words, words! You may as well listen to the birds.

The dreamer is still asleep.

Moon's milk spills from my unquiet skull and forms a white rainbow.
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