Mathy

I watched the movie Julius Caesar (1953) again. This time, watched with a die-hard fan of Shakespeare and Marlon Brando. I’ve written about it here.

Thought of sharing some memorable quotations here.

COBBLER
Truly, sir, in respect of a fine workman, I am but, as you
would say, a cobbler.

-0-

CAESAR
(aside to ANTONY) Let me have men about me that are fat,
Sleek-headed men and such as sleep a-nights.
Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look.

He thinks too much. Such men are dangerous.

ANTONY (aside to CAESAR)
Fear him not, Caesar. He’s not dangerous.
He is a noble Roman and well given.

CAESAR
(aside to ANTONY) Would he were fatter! But I fear him not.
Yet if my name were liable to fear,

I do not know the man I should avoid
So soon as that spare Cassius. He reads much.
He is a great observer, and he looks
Quite through the deeds of men. He loves no plays,
As thou dost, Antony. He hears no music.

Seldom he smiles, and smiles in such a sort
As if he mocked himself and scorned his spirit
That could be moved to smile at anything.
Such men as he be never at heart’s ease
Whiles they behold a greater than themselves,

And therefore are they very dangerous.
I rather tell thee what is to be feared
Than what I fear, for always I am Caesar.
Come on my right hand, for this ear is deaf,
And tell me truly what thou think’st of him.

-0-

CASSIUS
Men at some time are masters of their fates.
The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars
But in ourselves, that we are underlings.

-0-

CEASAR
et tu brute? then fall, ceasar

-0-

BRUTUS
Be patient till the last.
Romans, countrymen, and lovers! Hear me for my cause,
and be silent that you may hear. Believe me for mine honor,

and have respect to mine honor that you may believe.
Censure me in your wisdom, and awake your senses that
you may the better judge. If there be any in this assembly,
any dear friend of Caesar’s, to him I say that Brutus’ love to
Caesar was no less than his. If then that friend demand why

Brutus rose against Caesar, this is my answer: not that I
loved Caesar less, but that I loved Rome more.

Had you rather Caesar were living and die all slaves, than
that Caesar were dead, to live all free men? As Caesar loved
me, I weep for him. As he was fortunate, I rejoice at it. As

he was valiant, I honor him. But, as he was ambitious, I slew
him. There is tears for his love, joy for his fortune, honor for
his valor, and death for his ambition. Who is here so base
that would be a bondman? If any, speak—for him have I
offended. Who is here so rude that would not be a Roman?

If any, speak—for him have I offended. Who is here so vile
that will not love his country? If any, speak—for him have
I offended. I pause for a reply.

ALL
None, Brutus, none.

BRUTUS
Then none have I offended. I have done no more to Caesar

than you shall do to Brutus. The question of his death is
enrolled in the Capitol. His glory not extenuated wherein
he was worthy, nor his offenses enforced for which he
suffered death.

Enter Mark ANTONY with CAESAR’s body

Here comes his body, mourned by Mark Antony, who,

though he had no hand in his death, shall receive the benefit
of his dying—a place in the commonwealth—as which of
you shall not? With this I depart: that, as I slew my best
lover for the good of Rome, I have the same dagger for
myself when it shall please my country to need my death.

-0-

ANTONY
Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears.
I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him.
The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interrèd with their bones.
So let it be with Caesar. The noble Brutus
Hath told you Caesar was ambitious.
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Caesar answered it.

Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest—
For Brutus is an honorable man;
So are they all, all honorable men—
Come I to speak in Caesar’s funeral.
He was my friend, faithful and just to me.

But Brutus says he was ambitious,
And Brutus is an honorable man.
He hath brought many captives home to Rome
Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill.

Did this in Caesar seem ambitious?

When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath wept.
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff.
Yet Brutus says he was ambitious,
And Brutus is an honorable man.
You all did see that on the Lupercal

I thrice presented him a kingly crown,
Which he did thrice refuse. Was this ambition?
Yet Brutus says he was ambitious,
And, sure, he is an honorable man.
I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke,

But here I am to speak what I do know.
You all did love him once, not without cause.
What cause withholds you then to mourn for him?
O judgment! Thou art fled to brutish beasts,
And men have lost their reason. Bear with me.

My heart is in the coffin there with Caesar,
And I must pause till it come back to me. (weeps)

ANTONY
But yesterday the word of Caesar might
Have stood against the world. Now lies he there,
And none so poor to do him reverence.

O masters, if I were disposed to stir
Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage,
I should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong—
Who, you all know, are honorable men.
I will not do them wrong. I rather choose

To wrong the dead, to wrong myself and you,
Than I will wrong such honorable men.
But here’s a parchment with the seal of Caesar.
I found it in his closet. ‘Tis his will.
Let but the commons hear this testament—

Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read—
And they would go and kiss dead Caesar’s wounds
And dip their napkins in his sacred blood,
Yea, beg a hair of him for memory,
And, dying, mention it within their wills,

Bequeathing it as a rich legacy
Unto their issue.

ANTONY

Have patience, gentle friends. I must not read it.

It is not meet you know how Caesar loved you.
You are not wood, you are not stones, but men.
And, being men, bearing the will of Caesar,
It will inflame you, it will make you mad.
‘Tis good you know not that you are his heirs.

For, if you should—Oh, what would come of it!

ANTONY
Will you be patient? Will you stay awhile?
I have o’ershot myself to tell you of it.

I fear I wrong the honorable men
Whose daggers have stabbed Caesar. I do fear it.

ANTONY

You will compel me, then, to read the will?
Then make a ring about the corpse of Caesar,
And let me show you him that made the will.
Shall I descend? And will you give me leave?

ANTONY
If you have tears, prepare to shed them now.

You all do know this mantle. I remember
The first time ever Caesar put it on.
‘Twas on a summer’s evening in his tent,
That day he overcame the Nervii.
Look, in this place ran Cassius’ dagger through.

See what a rent the envious Casca made.
Through this the well-belovèd Brutus stabbed.
And as he plucked his cursèd steel away,
Mark how the blood of Caesar followed it,
As rushing out of doors, to be resolved

If Brutus so unkindly knocked, or no.
For Brutus, as you know, was Caesar’s angel.
Judge, O you gods, how dearly Caesar loved him!
This was the most unkindest cut of all.
For when the noble Caesar saw him stab,

Ingratitude, more strong than traitors’ arms,
Quite vanquished him. Then burst his mighty heart,
And, in his mantle muffling up his face,
Even at the base of Pompey’s statue,
Which all the while ran blood, great Caesar fell.

O, what a fall was there, my countrymen!
Then I, and you, and all of us fell down,
Whilst bloody treason flourished over us.
Oh, now you weep, and, I perceive, you feel
The dint of pity. These are gracious drops.

Kind souls, what, weep you when you but behold
Our Caesar’s vesture wounded? Look you here,
Here is himself, marred, as you see, with traitors.
(lifts up CAESAR’s mantle)

ANTONY

Good friends, sweet friends! Let me not stir you up
To such a sudden flood of mutiny.
They that have done this deed are honorable.

What private griefs they have, alas, I know not,
That made them do it. They are wise and honorable,
And will, no doubt, with reasons answer you.
I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts.
I am no orator, as Brutus is,

But, as you know me all, a plain blunt man
That love my friend. And that they know full well
That gave me public leave to speak of him.
For I have neither wit nor words nor worth,
Action nor utterance nor the power of speech,

To stir men’s blood. I only speak right on.
I tell you that which you yourselves do know,
Show you sweet Caesar’s wounds, poor poor dumb mouths,
And bid them speak for me. But were I Brutus,
And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony

Would ruffle up your spirits and put a tongue
In every wound of Caesar that should move
The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny.

ANTONY

Why, friends, you go to do you know not what.
Wherein hath Caesar thus deserved your loves?
Alas, you know not. I must tell you then.
You have forgot the will I told you of.

ANTONY

Here is the will, and under Caesar’s seal
To every Roman citizen he gives—
To every several man—seventy-five drachmas.

ANTONY

Moreover, he hath left you all his walks,
His private arbors and new-planted orchards,
On this side Tiber. He hath left them you

And to your heirs forever—common pleasures,
To walk abroad and recreate yourselves.
Here was a Caesar! When comes such another?

http://nfs.sparknotes.com/juliuscaesar

L’absence

Je te parle ? travers les villes
Je te parle ? travers les plaines
Ma bouche est sur ton oreiller
Les deux faces des murs font face
A ? ma voix qui te reconna?t
Je te parle d’?ternit? O villes souvenirs de villes
Villes drap?es dans nos d?sirs
Villes pr?coces et tardives
Villes fortes villes intimes
D?pouill?es de tous leurs ma?ons
De leur penseurs de leurs fant?mes

Campagne r?gle d’?meraude
Vive vivante survivante
Le bl? du ciel sur notre terre
Nourrit ma voix je r?ve et pleure
Je ris et r?ve entre les flammes
Entre les grappes du soleil Et sur mon corps ton corps ?tend
La nappe de son miroir clair.

Paul Eluard, Derniers poèmes d’amour, 1963.

English Translation

Absence

I speak to you over cities
I speak to you over plains

My mouth is against your ear

The two sides of the walls face

my voice which acknowledges you.

I speak to you of eternity.

O cities memories of cities

cities draped with our desires

cities early and late

cities strong cities intimate

stripped of all their makers

their thinkers their phantoms

Landscape ruled by emerald

live living ever-living

the wheat of the sky on our earth

nourishes my voice I dream and cry

I laugh and dream between the flames

between the clusters of sunlight

And over my body your body extends

the layer of its clear mirror.

A post in my tamil blog - http://mathy.kandasamy.net/musings/2006/06/24/436

– Kamala Das

Getting a man to love you is easy
Only be honest about your wants as
Woman. Stand nude before the glass with him
So that he sees himself the stronger one
And believes it so, and you so much more
Softer, younger, lovelier. Admit your
Admiration. Notice the perfection
Of his limbs, his eyes reddening under
The shower, the shy walk across the bathroom floor,
Dropping towels, and the jerky way he
Urinates. All the fond details that make
Him male and your only man. Gift him all,
Gift him what makes you woman, the scent of
Long hair, the musk of sweat between the breasts,
The warm shock of menstrual blood, and all your
Endless female hungers. Oh yes, getting
A man to love is easy, but living
Without him afterwards may have to be
Faced. A living without life when you move
Around, meeting strangers, with your eyes that
Gave up their search, with ears that hear only
His last voice calling out your name and your
Body which once under his touch had gleamed
Like burnished brass, now drab and destitute.

Kamala Das - Wikipedia

From today’s ‘A-Word-A-Day’. Hope I’m not floccinaucinihilipilificating your time. :p

floccinaucinihilipilification (FLOK-si-NO-si-NY-HIL-i-PIL-i-fi-KAY-shuhn) noun

Estimating something as worthless.

[From Latin flocci, from floccus (tuft of wool) + nauci, from naucum
(a trifling thing) + nihili, from Latin nihil (nothing) + pili, from pilus
(a hair, trifle) + -fication (making).]

This word was coined by combining four Latin terms flocci, nauci, nihili,
pili, all meaning something of little or no value, which were listed in
the well-known “Eton Latin Grammar” of Eton College in the UK.

The Oxford English Dictionary shows the first use of the word by William
Shetstone in 1777: “I loved him for nothing so much as his
flocci-nauci-nihili-pili-fication of money.”

The word seems to be popular in the US government. It has been heard from
the mouths of White House Press Secretary Mike McCurry, Senator Robert Byrd,
and Senator Jesse Helms among others. Maybe that tells us something about
the US Congress’s interest in the floccinaucinihilipilification of taxpayers’
money.

-Anu Garg (gargATwordsmith.org)

“A number of you have phoned me saying that the BBC has plumbed the depths
of nationalist floccinaucinihilipilification by simply making up the
daftest imaginable Scottish name for the chairman of the Gigha community
land steering commission - they haven’t. I’ve checked. He really is called
Willie MacSporran.”
Giles Coren; Willie MacSporran; The Times (London, UK); Oct 31, 2001.

Michael Pollan has written an interesting article on Walmart’s plans to sell organic food. It appeared on NY Times Sunday Magazine dated Jun 4th 2006. [Link]

Excerpts from that article follows:

Beginning later this year, Wal-Mart plans to roll out a complete selection of organic foods — food certified by the U.S.D.A. to have been grown without synthetic pesticides or fertilizers — in its nearly 4,000 stores. Just as significant, the company says it will price all this organic food at an eye-poppingly tiny premium over its already-cheap conventional food: the organic Cocoa Puffs and Oreos will cost only 10 percent more than the conventional kind. Organic food will soon be available to the tens of millions of Americans who now cannot afford it — indeed, who have little or no idea what the term even means. Organic food, which represents merely 2.5 percent of America’s half-trillion-dollar food economy, is about to go mainstream.

Wal-Mart’s push into the organic market won’t do much for small organic farmers, that seems plain enough. But it may also spell trouble for the big growers it will favor. Wal-Mart has a reputation for driving down prices by squeezing its suppliers, especially after those suppliers have invested heavily to boost production to feed the Wal-Mart maw. Having done that, the supplier will find itself at Wal-Mart’s mercy when the company decides it no longer wants to pay a price that enables the farmer to make a living. When that happens, the notion of responsibly priced food will be sacrificed to the imperatives of survival, and the pressure to cut corners will become irresistible.

Michael Pollan also talks about something that is concern.

Up to now, the federal organic standards have provided a bulwark against that pressure. Yet with the industrialization of organic, these rules are themselves coming under mounting pressure, and forgive my skepticism, but it’s hard to believe that the lobbyists from Wal-Mart are going to play a constructive role in defending those standards from efforts to weaken them. Just this past year the Organic Trade Association used lobbyists who do work for Kraft Foods to move a bill through Congress that will make it easier to include synthetic ingredients in products labeled organic.

After an outcry from consumers and some wiser heads in the organic industry, this new rule was repealed. The moral of the Fieldale story is that unless consumers and well-meaning organic producers remain vigilant and steadfast, the drive to make the price of organic foods competitive with that of conventional foods will hollow out the word and kill the organic goose, just when her golden eggs are luring so many big players into the water. Let’s hope Wal-Mart recognizes that the extraordinary marketing magic of the word “organic” — a power that flows directly from our dissatisfaction with the very-cheap-food economy Wal-Mart has done so much to create — is a lot like the health of an organic chicken living in close confinement with thousands of other chickens in an organic CAFO, munching organic corn: fragile.