Klingsors Letzter Sommer
Klingsor is a famous painter, and he knows this summer will be his last. Instead of retreating into quiet acceptance, he throws himself into life with a ferocity that only the dying can sustain: painting, drinking, walking through the Mediterranean landscape, watching the world with eyes that see too much. Hermann Hesse, drawing on his own crisis of faith and creativity, crafted something more than a meditation on death. This is a man grabbing the cup of life and draining it dry, all while the clock runs down. The novel pulses with sensual detail and existential urgency, asking what remains to an artist when mortality arrives: does the work grant immortality, or does mastery ultimately mean nothing? Klingsor's struggle between discipline and wildness, between the ascetic and the sensuous, burns on every page. This is fiction for anyone who has stared at their own limited time and wondered whether making something beautiful is enough.
Editions
X-Ray
“This day will never come again and anyone who fails to eat and drink and taste and smell it will never have it offered to him again in all eternity. The sun will never shine as it does today...But you must play your part and sing a song, one of your best. ””
— Hermann Hesse
“مرحى أيها العالم القديم! احرص على أن لا تنهار””
— Hermann Hesse
“There was only greed for living and dread, and out of dread, out of stupid childish dread of the cold, of loneliness, of death, two people fled to one another, kissed, embraced, rubbed cheek to cheek, put leg to leg, cast new human beings into the world. That was how it was.””
— Hermann Hesse
“Ne, nė vienas žmogus ilgai negalėtų pakelti tokio liepsningo gyvenimo. <...> Niekas negalėtų taip ilgai dieną naktį deginti visus savo žiburius, eikvoti visus savo vulkanus, niekas neįstengtų taip ilgai dieną naktį stovėti liepsnose, kasdien daug valandų su įkaitusia galva mąstyti, nuolatos mėgaudamasis, nuolatos kurdamas, nuolatos šviesus, su budriais jausmais ir nervais nelyginant pilis, už kurios langų kasdien skamba muzika, o naktimis tviska tūkstančiai žvakių.””
— Hermann Hesse
“For one scant day he had loved himself, felt himself to be unified and whole, not split into hostile parts; he had loved himself and the world and God in himself, and everywhere he went he had met nothing but love, approval, and joy.””
— Hermann Hesse
“I don't know whether I love Gina. I doubt it very much. I would not make any sacrifices for her. I do not know whether I can love at all. I can desire and can seek myself in others; I can listen for an echo, demand a mirror, seek pleasure, and all that can look like love.””
— Hermann Hesse
“Jis tavim gėrėsis, išmoks tave mintinai.””
— Hermann Hesse
“Mirtis kvepėjo lietaus lašais pakelės lapuose.””
— Hermann Hesse
