“I am still so naive. I know pretty much what I like and dislike; but please, don’t ask me who I am. A passionate, fragmentary girl, maybe?”
— Sylvia Plath

erikkwakkel:

Making Shakespeare

Today in 1616 William Shakespeare died. His works have been enjoyed by generations of readers, which means that generations of printers have been busy editing and reprinting his texts. The images above are special. They are from the 1791 edition of The Bard’s “dramatic works”, as the title page has it, which included his play Richard III. Except, these images don’t show the actual book. You are looking at the proofs corrected by the editor George Steevens himself, which miraculously survived.

The proofs show the editor at work. Using the 1790 text of Malone as a basis, Steevens changed Shakespeare’s words into what he thought was the best text to print. Words were deleted (“guilty” and “done” are crossed out), clarifications were added (a character exited “with the body”, penned next to it), and entire passages appear to have been rewritten (note the pasted pieces of paper with Steevens handwritten text). The proofs seen here show how Shakespeare is prepared for a new generation of readers: his words were perfected to reach a new audience - and new potential buyers.

Pic: Washington, Shakespeare Library, PR2752 1791-1802a v.1 Sh.Col. (This Shakespeare edition of 1791). Here is my source and more information.

What is a measure for success?
Being read. Being read by people who get it. For me, success is that I have a book out and maybe I get an email from a friend of a friend who I don’t really know that speaks to what the book is about. That people get it: That can keep me depression-free for a month. That it means something to someone else, particularly in a positive way. A woman said to me, “Your book made me feel less alone.” That is success. By

Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

Source: http://www.vogue.com/culture/article/chimamanda-ngozi-adicihie-feminism-beyonce-book/#1

Reblogged from c-ovet  30 notes

I remember I would not stand still; I would not stop being perplexed by everything that spontaneously attracted me or caught my attention. I would never cease to look around me and observe myself in relation to nature: either crystal clear skies and sun-melting afternoons, or foggy winter days and weirdly tinted nights. I would never cease to dream and stand by the window, ready to let the diversity of life pass freely through my skin; courageous enough to believe I stood a chance in devouring each shade of sensation. Or perhaps, immensely foolish to plainly — believe at all. By Virginia Woolf (via c-ovet)

sadvillains:

wallflowerbloom:

No matter what anybody tells you, words and ideas can change the world.

We don’t read and write poetry because it’s cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for.

(Dead Poets Society, 1989)

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