(click for full-size)
«Il mare è la civiltà», disse [Franco Scoglio] una volta, «il sentimento, la passione, le tempeste, ma l’amore, gli sbarchi, le partenze, il mare è tutto. La follia va di pari passo con il mare». — Ultrà. Il volto nascosto delle tifoserie di calcio in Italia, Tobias Jones (2020)
• “The sea is civilization,” [Franco Scoglio] said once, “sentiment, passion, storms, love, landings, leavings, the sea is everything… madness walks with the sea.” — Ultra: The Underworld of Italian Football, Tobias Jones (2019)
I’m not sure if the Italian is the original Italian or an Italian translation of Jones’s English translation of the original Italian. But it seems to be the former.
Iridogorgia are corals growing in the dark of the deep Atlantic and Pacific oceans. Part of their name comes from Greek ἶρις, ἰριδος, iris, iridos, “rainbow”, referring to their sometimes iridiscent colors. So they remind me of a Dio song that I’ve never heard but always liked the title of: “Rainbow in the Dark”. In this photo, I also like the contrast between the beauty of the coral and the grotesqueness of the squat lobsters.
• Photograph of diatoms collected in Russia and arranged on a microscope slide in 1952 by A.L. Brigger
• …ποντίων τε κυμάτων ἀνήριθμον γέλασμα… — Αἰσχύλος, Προμηθεὺς δεσμώτης (c. 479-24 B.C.)
• …of ocean-waves the multitudinous laughter… Prometheus Bound by Aeschylus* at Perseus
• …ever-glittering laughter of the far-thrown waves… (my translation)
γέλασμα, a laugh, κυμάτων ἀνήριθμον γέλασμα, Keble’s “the many-twinkling smile of Ocean, ” Aesch. — Liddell and Scott
Keble was not a sacred but, in the best sense of the word, a secular poet. It is not David only, but the Sibyl, whose accents we catch in his inspirations. The “sword in myrtle drest” of Harmodius and Aristogeiton, “the many-twinkling smile of ocean” from Æschylus, are images as familiar to him as “Bethlehem’s glade” or “Carmel’s haunted strand.” Not George Herbert, or Cowper, but Wordsworth, Scott, and perhaps more than all, Southey, are the English poets that kindled his flame, and coloured his diction. — John Keble at Penny’s Poetry Pages
One day Mr Gordon had accidentally come in, and found no one there but Upton and Eric; they were standing very harmlessly by the window, with Upton’s arm resting kindly on Eric’s shoulder, as they watched with admiration the network of rippled sunbeams that flashed over the sea. Upton had just been telling Eric the splendid phrase, “anerhithmon gelasma pontou”, which he had stumbled upon in an Aeschylus lesson that morning, and they were trying which would hit on the best rendering of it. Eric stuck up for the literal sublimity of “the innumerable laughter of the sea,” while Upton was trying to win him over to “the many-twinkling smile of ocean.” They were enjoying the discussion, and each stoutly maintaining his own rendering, when Mr Gordon entered. — quote from Frederic W. Farrar’s Eric, or Little by Little (1858) at Sententiae Antiquae
*Or possibly his son Euphorion.