Ymir Suckles from the Cow Audhumla — Nicolai Abildgaard

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From H.A. Guerber’s Myths of the Norsemen (1909):

As the steam rose in clouds it again encountered the prevailing cold, and was changed into rime or hoarfrost, which, layer by layer, filled up the great central space. Thus by the continual action of cold and heat, and also probably by the will of the uncreated and unseen, a gigantic creature called Ymir or Orgelmir (seething clay), the personification of the frozen ocean, came to life amid the ice-blocks in the abyss, and as he was born of rime he was called a Hrim-thurs, or ice-giant.

“In early times,

When Ymir lived,

Was sand, nor sea,

Nor cooling wave;

No earth was found,

Nor heaven above;

One chaos all,

And nowhere grass.”

Sæmund’s Edda (Henderson’s tr.).

Groping about in the gloom in search of something to eat, Ymir perceived a gigantic cow called Audhumla (the nourisher), which had been created by the same agency as himself, and out of the same materials. Hastening towards her, Ymir noticed with pleasure that from her udder flowed four great streams of milk, which would supply ample nourishment.

All his wants were thus satisfied; but the cow, looking about her for food in her turn, began to lick the salt off a neighbouring ice-block with her rough tongue. This she continued to do until first the hair of a god appeared and then the whole head emerged from its icy envelope, until by-and-by Buri (the producer) stepped forth entirely free.

While the cow had been thus engaged, Ymir, the [4]giant, had fallen asleep, and as he slept a son and daughter were born from the perspiration under his armpit, and his feet produced the six-headed giant Thrudgelmir, who, shortly after his birth, brought forth in his turn the giant Bergelmir, from whom all the evil frost giants are descended.

“Under the armpit grew,

’Tis said of Hrim-thurs,

A girl and boy together;

Foot with foot begat,

Of that wise Jötun,

A six-headed son.”

Sæmund’s Edda (Thorpe’s tr.).

Detail from Crivelli’s Annunciation

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Detail from Crivelli’s Annunciation

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Untitled — Markus Schinwald

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Mother Mushroom with Her Children — Edward Okun

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Interior with Mother Delousing Child — Pieter de Hooch

“An Apology for Idlers,” Robert Louis Stevenson’s defense of idle time

“An Apology for Idlers”
by

Robert Louis Stevenson


Boswell: We grow weary when idle.”

Johnson: That is, sir, because others being busy, we want company; but if we were idle, there would be no growing weary; we should all entertain one another.”

Just now, when every one is bound, under pain of a decree in absence convicting them of lèse-respectability, to enter on some lucrative profession, and labour therein with something not far short of enthusiasm, a cry from the opposite party who are content when they have enough, and like to look on and enjoy in the meanwhile, savours a little of bravado and gasconade.  And yet this should not be.  Idleness so called, which does not consist in doing nothing, but in doing a great deal not recognised in the dogmatic formularies of the ruling class, has as good a right to state its position as industry itself.  It is admitted that the presence of people who refuse to enter in the great handicap race for sixpenny pieces, is at once an insult and a disenchantment for those who do.  A fine fellow (as we see so many) takes his determination, votes for the sixpences, and in the emphatic Americanism, it “goes for” them.  And while such an one is ploughing distressfully up the road, it is not hard to understand his resentment, when he perceives cool persons in the meadows by the wayside, lying with a handkerchief over their ears and a glass at their elbow.  Alexander is touched in a very delicate place by the disregard of Diogenes.  Where was the glory of having taken Rome for these tumultuous barbarians, who poured into the Senate house, and found the Fathers sitting silent and unmoved by their success?  It is a sore thing to have laboured along and scaled the arduous hilltops, and when all is done, find humanity indifferent to your achievement.  Hence physicists condemn the unphysical; financiers have only a superficial toleration for those who know little of stocks; literary persons despise the unlettered; and people of all pursuits combine to disparage those who have none. Continue reading ““An Apology for Idlers,” Robert Louis Stevenson’s defense of idle time”

Detail from Crivelli’s Annunciation

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Still Life with Musical Instruments — Pieter Claesz

Birds Are Laughing on Top of the Tree — Mu Pan

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Detail from Crivelli’s Annunciation

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The Bus — Paul Kirchner

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Detail from Crivelli’s Annunciation

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Orpheus — Odilon Redon

The Walker — Dean Reynolds

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Detail from Crivelli’s Annunciation

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