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De Amerikaanse schrijver Irving Stone werd geboren op 14 juli 1903 in San Francisco. Zie ook mijn blog van 14 juli 2007.xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" />
Uit: The Agony and the Ecstasy
He began with the Deluge, a large panel toward the entrance of the chapel. By March he had the cartoon blown up and ready to be transferred to the ceiling. Winter had not released its grip on Rome. The Sistine was bitterly cold. A hundred braziers could not heat its lowest areas. He wore his warm wool stockings, brache and shirt.
Rosselli, who had left for Orvieto for a profitable commission, had trained Michi in the mixing of the plaster and the method of applying it. Michelangelo helped him carry the sacks of lime, sand and pozzolana, volcanic tufa dust, up the steep wall ladders to the top of the scaffolding. Here Michi made his mix. Michelangelo was dissatisfied with the tawny color caused by the pozzolana, adding more lime and ground marble. He and Michi then climbed the series of three receding platforms that Rosselli had built so that they could plaster and paint the top of the rolling vault. Michi laid an area of intonaco, then held the cartoon.
Michelangelo used the stick, charcoal bag, red ochre for connecting lines. Michi descended, set to work grinding colors below. Michelangelo was now on his top platform, sixty feet above the floor. He had been thirteen when he stood for the first time on the scaffolding in Santa Maria Novella, alone on a peak above the chapel and the world. Now he was thirty-four, and now, as then, he suffered vertigo. The Sistine seemed so hollow from up here, with his head just one foot below the ceiling. He smelled the wet plaster, the pungence of his freshly ground paints.
He turned from his view of the marble floor, picked up a brush, squeezed it between the fingers and
thumb of his left hand, remembering that he would have to keep his colors liquid this early in the
morning. . . .
Irving Stone (14 juli 1903 26 augustus 1989)
De Italiaanse schrijfster Natalia Ginzburg werd geboren op 14 juli 1916 in Palermo. Zie ook mijn blog van 14 juli 2006 en ook mijn blog van 14 juli 2007 en ook mijn blog van 14 juli 2008.
Uit: Human Relationships (Vertaald door Dick Davis)
In that brief moment we found a point of equilibrium for our wavering life: and it seemed to us that we could always rediscover that secret moment and find there the words for our vocation, the words for our neighbour; that we could look at our neighbour with a gaze that would always be just and free, not the timid or contemptuous gaze of someone who whenever he is with his neighbour always asks himself if he is his master or his servant. All our life we have only known how to be masters and servants: but in that secret moment of ours, in our moment of perfect equilibrium, we have realized that there is no real authority or servitude on the earth. And so it is that now as we turn to that secret moment we look at others to see whether they have lived through an identical moment, or whether they are still far away from it; it is this that we have to know. It is the highest moment in the life of a human being, and it is necessary that we stand with others whose eyes are fixed on the highest moment of their destiny
Natalia Ginzburg (14 juli 1916 7 oktober 1991)
De Franse schrijver en letterkundige Jacques de Lacretelle werd geboren in Cormatin (Saône-et-Loire) op 14 juli 1888. Zie ook mijn blog van 14 juli 2007 en ook mijn blog van 14 juli 2008.
Uit: Le Retour de Silbermann
« Tout ce quon mapprendra, disait-il, je le sais déjà. Ce que je ne sais pas, cest comment on gagne de largent. »
Cest ainsi quil se mit tout de suite aux affaires avec un zèle un peu inexpérimenté que loncle Joshua avait dû ralentir à plus dune reprise. Il avait voulu être initié en même temps à toutes les branches de sa profession. Dès quil entendait parler, dans le bureau, dune vente ou dun achat possible, il se proposait pour conclure le marché. « Laissez-moi aller voir, oncle Joshua, laissez-moi traiter. »
- Naturellement, me dit son cousin, mon père, qui avait mis trente ans à faire sa fortune, ne lui confiait rien dimportant, et il se moquait parfois de limpétuosité de David.
Jacques de Lacretelle (14 juli 1888 2 januari 1985)
De Russische dichter Gavrila Romanovitsj Derzjavin werd geboren in Kazan op 14 juli 1743. Zie ook mijn blog van 14 juli 2007 en ook mijn blog van 14 juli 2008.
The Storm
As my bark in restless ocean
Mounts its rough and foaming hills,
Whilst its waves in dark commotion
Pass me, hope my bosom fills.
Who, when warring clouds are gleaming,
Quenches the destructive spark?
Say what hand, where safety's beaming,
Guides through rocks my little bark?
Thou Creator! all o'erseeing,
In this scene preserv'st me dread,
Thou, without whose word decreeing
Not a hair falls from my head.
Thou in life hast doubly blest me,
All my soul to thee's revealed,
Thou amongst the great hast placed me,
Be midst them my guide and shield!
Vertaald door William D. Lewis
Gavrila Derzjavin (14 juli 1743 - 20 juli 1816)
Monument voor Derzjavin in Kazan
De Amerikaanse schrijver, scenarioschrijver en regisseur Arthur Laurents is geboren in New York op 14 Juli 1918. Zie ook mijn blog van 14 juli 2007.
Uit: My Good Name
HARRY: Not in their class. Either class. You think they went down because they're outsiders. I think because they were greedy. I wasn't greedy, Rachel. I simply wanted to live well. I wanted to be sure that you and I and your child and my childr - child lived well. We do. We have everything we need and a bit more. But we don't live in the land of Ferraris. I was neither gaudy nor greedy. When they caught up with me, what did they catch? Good name, good clubs, a personable, affable asset to be counted on and no threat to anyone. A gentleman. That's an old fashioned concept, so they don't say it. But they think it, and what they think is: you can believe him. In the case of the Feds: you can believe his testimony. That's why they gave me the choice. I could help them and get immunity or I could be sent to jail. Why should I go to jail? What good would it do anyone if I went to jail? You and Becca would have to give up this room. Why should you? Why should I?
RACHEL: (After a moment.) This is ridiculous. I feel like I'm hyperventilating.
HARRY: Take some slow deep breaths.
RACHEL: I'm not hyperventilating. This is ridiculous! You know what it is? I know what it is. Everything in my head is jammed. all circuits closed down. I had it once before. Years ago, before you. Even before Becca. I was trying to get away from Mickey and wound up back-packing through Europe with him. In Paris, I spoke French - from college. In Madrid, Spanish - from high school. By the time we got to Italy, I had stopped thinking in English and was translating from either Spanish or French into Italian in the present tense. Until one night, in a bar in Positano. Out of season, just before Easter - the Buca di Bacco! I can see the carving over the door. all the languages seemed jammed in my head and I couldn't speak anything for ten minutes. Nothing, not one word, not even English for ten minutes. The next day, I flew home alone. But Becca was already underway.
Arthur Laurents (New York, 14 Juli 1918)
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