I Love The Night

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  “It was a glorious night. The moon had sunk, and left the quiet earth alone with the stars. It seemed as if, in the silence and the hush, while we her children slept, they were talking with her, their sister — conversing of mighty mysteries in voices too vast and deep for childish human ears to catch the sound. They awe us, these strange stars, so cold, so clear. We are as children whose small feet have strayed into some dim-lit temple of the god they have been taught to worship but know not; and, standing where the echoing dome spans the long vista of the shadowy light, glance up, half hoping, half afraid to see some awful vision hovering there. And yet it seems so full of comfort and of strength, the night. In its great presence, our small sorrows creep away, ashamed. The day has been so full of fret and care, and our hearts have been so full of evil and of bitter thoughts, and the world has seemed so hard and wrong to us. Then Night, like some great loving mother, gently lays ...

Finished Reading

 Finished reading Sophocles’ third and final Theban play. Actually, it’s the first. Though “Antigone” brings the cycle to a close, it was the first written and performed. One might say that Sophocles was the ancient father of the prequel, producing “Oedipus The King” after “Antigone.” 

This is the tragic account of a daughter-sister of Oedipus burying the body of her disgraced brother, Polynices, against the will of Creon, the king of Thebes, her uncle (in its complicated way). To quote Creon, this is a “story with a great deal of artful precaution. It’s evidently something strange.” 



In this third (and first) tale, Teiresias the blind prophet, makes a curious observation (if you will), that points the way out of tragedy, that “all men fall into sin. But sinning, he is not for ever lost hapless and helpless, who can make amends and has not set his face against repentance.” Though his advice goes unheeded and the characters meet their tragic end, one wonders: must our end be the same? 


(Artwork is “Antigone in front of the dead Polynices” by Nikiforos Lytras, 1865)

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