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|Swift, Identity, and an “Old Man's Memory” Swift was well aware of the paradoxes |
inherent in the issues of identity, memory ... also acknowledging that the memory
of the old is often limited to what is in front of them: “Observation is an Old Man's ...
|Told in language of great simplicity and power, it is the story of an old Cuban fisherman, down on his luck, and his supreme ordeal—a relentless, agonizing battle with a giant marlin far out in the Gulf Stream.|
|Old Man. — I passed near you as the serpent was darting towards you, and— it is |
i Jim. — You killod it? But with what weapons ? I perceive ... Accept my best
thanks, and permit me to store your name in my grateful memory. Old Man ...
Read in that book — read with the eyis of the soul, whose eye is observation.
This eye ...
|don't you?' 'She died well,' observed the old man nodding his head reflectively. '|
She died well. Didn't suffer. Ha, doctor? Did she?' 'No,no, shedidn't,' Lal replied
quickly and, thus assured, the old man moved on. 'She took ill abouta week ago,'
|Swift, Jonathan Observation is an old man's memory. - Swift, Jonathan Men are |
happy to be laughed at for their humor, but not for their folly. - Swift, Jonathan
There are few, very few, that will own themselves in a mistake. - Swift, Jonathan A
|'Was it only yesterday,' he said, 'when I observed the memory of this old man to |
be a tissue of sorrow and trouble, and shall I be afraid, to-night, to shake it? Are
such remembrances as I can drive away, so precious to this dying man, that I
|The memory that he had white whiskers, even coupled with the belief that I learnt |
this fact from observing him when he ... for instance, observe the white patch
which is an old man's moustache without otherwise noticing the old man at all.
|James Joyce and Cultural Memory. Volume ... The old man's observation of a |
discontinuity in the transmission of narratives may have been intended more as
an assertion of conventional gender divisions in storytelling than as a reflection
|Old Man. — I passed near you as the serpent was darting towards you, and — it |
is dead Rix. — You lulled it? But with ... your name' in my grateful memory. OH
Man. — Names render men neither better nor more remarkable than they really
are. ... Read in that book — read- with the eyes of the soul, whose eye is
|breaking off, and raising his voice as he addressed the old man, standing apart, |
with his glistening burden in his arms, from which the quiet Mrs. William took
small branches, which she ... There never was such a memory as my father‟s. ...
It‟s the very observation I‟m always making to Mrs. William, sir, if you‟ll believe