Tania's Reviews > Antigone

Antigone by Jean Anouilh
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Dec 20, 2011

really liked it
bookshelves: 4-star-wonders
Read in December, 2011 — I own a copy , read count: 2

Antigone: Understand! The first word I ever heard out of any of you was that word "understand". Why didn't I "understand" that I must not play with water - cold, black, beautiful flowing water - because I'd spill it on the palace tiles. Or with earth, because earth dirties a little girl's frock. Why didn't I "understand" that nice children don't eat out of every dish at once; or give everything in their pockets to beggars; or run in the wind so fast that they fall down; or ask for a drink when they're perspiring; or want to go swimming when it's either too early or too late, merely because they happen to feel like swimming. Understand! I don't want to understand. There'll be time enough to understand when I'm old... If I ever am old. But not now. (p.19/20)

Ismene: His mob will come running, howling as it runs. A thousand arms will seize our arms. A thousand breaths will breathe into our faces. Like one single pair of eye, a thousand eyes will stare at us. We'll be driven in a tumbrel through their hatred, through the smell of them and their cruel, roaring laughter. We'll be dragged to the scaffold for torture, surrounded by guards with their idiot faces all bloated, their animal hands clean-washed for the sacrifice, their beefy eyes squinting as they stare at us. And we'll know that no shrieking and no begging will make them understand that we want to live, for they are like slaves who do exactly as they've been told, without caring about right or wrong. And we shall suffer, we shall feel pain rising in us until it becomes so unbearable that we know it must stop. But it won't stop; it will go on rising and rising, like a screaming voice. (p.20)

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Reading Progress

12/19/2011 page 20
28.0% "Ismene: His mob will come running, howling as it runs. A thousand arms will seize our arms. A thousand breaths will breathe into our faces. Like one single pair of eye, a thousand eyes will stare at us. We'll be driven in a tumbrel through their hatred, through the smell of them and their cruel, roaring laughter. p. 20"
12/20/2011 page 36
50.0% "Chorus: The spring is wound up tight. It will uncoil of itself. That is what is so convenient in tragedy. The least little turn of the wrist will do the job. Anything will set it going: a glance at a girl who happens to be lifting her arms to her hair as you go by; a feeling when you wake up on a fine morning that you'd like a little respect paid to you today,(...); one question too many, (...)- and the tragedy is on"

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