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'This is pleasant, he said to himself when the morning had turned to afternoon and the afternoon to night, 'and it is certainly new. A stratus of tepid cloud a thousand miles long and a thousand miles deep, and a man in a dug-out paddling through! Sisyphus was nothing to this. But he made himself comfortable in a philosophic way, and went to the only place left to him, to sleep.
It is true, I knew he was inflicting on himself torments to which the fabled agonies of Tantalus, Sisyphus, and Ixion combined could not be compared; but others did not; they saw the averted eye, the coldness, the distance, the estrangement, but they did not, could not see, the bleeding heart, the agonized spirit hidden beneath the veil. I ought to mention here the reason that Mr.
This was not the lightest part of an officer's duty, this supervision of the suspicious political element among the men. A perfect task of Sisyphus, indeed! After all, one could do nothing more than prevent the fellows from spouting their wisdom as long as they were soldiers, make them keep to the beaten track, give them "patriotism and the joys of a soldier's life" for their watchword.
Then Milluccio, mingling words and sighs, thanked him for his love, saying that he had no doubt of his affection, but that there was no remedy for his ill, since it sprang from a stone, where he had sown desires without hope of fruit a stone from which he did not expect a mushroom of content a stone of Sisyphus, which he bore to the mountain of designs, and when it reached the top rolled over and over to the bottom.
Better it were to roll the stone of Sisyphus all life-long, than spend it in such idleness as weighs upon the cities of Italy. Better the clang of the forge than the rattle of the sabre. The Milanese seemed looking into the future; and a dismal future it is, if one may judge from their looks, a future full of revolutions, to conduct, mayhap, to freedom; more probably to the scaffold.
His name was Sisyphus, and he was punished in Tartarus—Pluto’s world below—by having always to roll a stone up a mountain so steep that it was sure to come down upon him again. Dorus was, of course, the father of the Dorians; and Xuthus had a son, called Iôn, who was the father of the Ionians.
And then, even if we can find documentary evidence of such an event, we shall have but advanced one step in our obscure path, and should have yet to discover the issue of that union, and to trace the footsteps of Matthew's unknown descendants during the period of a century. I wonder how Sisyphus felt when the stone kept rolling back upon him.
The black Cocytus wandering with languid current, and the infamous race of Danaus, and Sisyphus, the son of the Aeolus, doomed to eternal toil, must be visited; your land and house and pleasing wife must be left, nor shall any of those trees, which you are nursing, follow you, their master for a brief space, except the hated cypresses; a worthier heir shall consume your Caecuban wines now guarded with a hundred keys, and shall wet the pavement with the haughty wine, more exquisite than what graces pontifical entertainment.
What few men of forethought who have taken to ships, what odd survivors there may be in arctic wastes or on lofty Andean or Himalayan peaks, together with the complement of the Sisyphus and its accompanying escort are all that survive of humanity. It is an awesome thought. Later: Reading this over it seems almost as though I had been untrue to my fundamental philosophy.
It does not matter whether you take Dorus as the son of Apollo or the son of Helen; he equally symbolises the power of light: while his brother, Æolus, through all his descendants, chiefly in Sisyphus, is confused or associated with the real god of the winds, and represents to you the power of the air.
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