Category Archives: Stuart France

Pieces of Nietzsche by Stuart France

Posted on October 23, 2020 by

* NEW EUROPEANS The desire for Truth. That ‘temptress to risk’. The veracity which all ‘lovers of wisdom’ revere. * Continue reading at France & Vincent

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Clews…

Posted on October 19, 2020 by

* …Kierkegaard knows only too well what is at stake here. How the mask can simultaneously both hide and reveal. Especially for those who know how to look… He chooses his psuedonyms very carefully, almost, too perfectly! Johannes-de-Silentio. ‘Silent John’. … Continue reading →

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The Shreiking Womb…

Posted on October 2, 2020 by

* The Ulstermen were drinking in the house of Connavor’s Bard, Fedlimed mac Dall. Fedlimed’s wedd-woman, who happened to be full with child, was also in attendance. She passed round meat and drink and, when the house reached drunken uproar, … Continue reading →

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…A Month of Sundays.

Posted on September 26, 2020 by

The Old Sterling Ten Pound Note (obverse) * The Sundays of my youth were quiet days, primarily because in those far off times our country still regarded the first day of the week as a rest day. Most of the … Continue reading →

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Fate of the Lir-Brood: Glora…

Posted on September 22, 2020 by

* No high-born heroes No hounds in chase No shields arrayed… No walls. * No silvered soft goblets No light cavalcades No youthful assemblies No beetle-browed maids… To brighten our desolate halls. * …When their three hundred years were ended … Continue reading →

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Fate of the Lir-Brood: Raven…

Posted on September 21, 2020 by

* Hard the day when first I brought Dark Eva in my house to dwell Black the woman’s heart that wrought Such a cruel and malevolent spell. * …Lir departed Lake Devra with his company and travelled to the king’s … Continue reading →

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Fate of the Lir-Brood: Devra…

Posted on September 20, 2020 by

* Come, brothers three, accost the coast And welcome Lir’s resplendent host Such woeful welcome from a fateful morn Will never bring to him bright morrow Unhappy sire, doomed, forlorn Left ever to mourn in hopeless sorrow. * …Eva arrived … Continue reading →

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Fate of the Lir-Brood: Eva…

Posted on September 19, 2020 by

* Depart from me as graceful swans The waters be now your home Your palace hall is a pearly cave Its couch the crest of a crystal wave Your mantle is milk-white foam. * …The four children grew up under … Continue reading →

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Structures of the Soul… Stuart France

Posted on September 18, 2020 by

* … We should not be surprised to find distinctly ‘Freudian’ concepts under the surface of this set-up. * Freud’s ‘Oedipal Complex’, after all, was derived from a Greek Tragic Play current in the Fifth Century BC. * George is … Continue reading →

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Fate of the Lir-Brood: Eve…

Posted on September 17, 2020 by

* Our bed now rock of dripping-caves Our lullaby a thunderous roar of waves Royal-couches once our sleepy heads did press And every night the harpist’s art, caress. * …”Submit to the king, choose a wife from his fosterage and … Continue reading →

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