Tuesday, January 10, 2023

 

What Makes You So Bitter?

Erwin Chargaff (1905-2002), Voices in the Labyrinth: Nature, Man, and Science (New York: The Seabury Press, 1977), p. 117:
M: Tell me, Senile, what makes you so bitter? Is it sour grapes, or what?

S: No, Middle-aged, I do not think so, though some grapes are indeed sour. I have often been asked this question, and my standard answer has been to refer the questioner to Shakespeare's sixty-sixth sonnet. It is just my form of protest against this bestial century. Call it, if you want, a "protective reaction strike."

M: Here you go using this disgusting slogan.

S: All slogans are disgusting. In this country we are born and we die with a slogan on our lips. The advertising industry—the true curse of our times—has polluted our brains with these little jingles; it has saturated them, and we carry their infernal aroma into our dreams.
William Shakespeare, Sonnet 66:
Tir'd with all these, for restful death I cry,
As, to behold desert a beggar born,
And needy nothing trimm'd in jollity,
And purest faith unhappily forsworn,
And gilded honour shamefully misplac'd,
And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted,
And right perfection wrongfully disgrac'd,
And strength by limping sway disabled,
And art made tongue-tied by authority,
And folly, doctor-like, controlling skill,
And simple truth miscall'd simplicity,
And captive good attending captain ill.
Tir'd with all these, from these would I be gone,
Save that, to die, I leave my love alone.
A.L. Rowse's prose paraphrase of the sonnet:
Weary with thinking of these things, I am ready to give up: to see merit born poor, for example, and the unworthy flourishing in jollity; to see faith betrayed and bright honour put down, innocent virtue abused, perfection wrongfully demeaned; to see strength crippled by limping power, art tongue-tied by authority, and pretentious stupidity in control of intelligence; to see simple truth regarded as simpleness of mind, and good dancing attendance upon evil in command. Weary with all this, I would willingly be gone, except that in dying I should leave my love alone.
Chargaff, pp. 121-122:
M: You have an encyclopedic knowledge of things that are of no use.

S: Thank you.



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