am I to sleep, and let the earth cover my head for ever?
“The Man-Scorpion opened his mouth and said, speaking to Gilgamesh, ‘No man born of woman has done what you have asked, no mortal man has gone into the mountain; the length of it is twelve leagues of darkness; in it there is no light, but the heart is oppressed with darkness. From the rising of the sun to the setting of the sun there is no light.’ Gilgamesh said, ‘Although I should go in sorrow and in pain, with sighing and with weeping, still I must go. Open the gate of the mountain.’ And the Man-Scorpion said, ‘Go, Gilgamesh, I permit you to pass through the mountain of Mashu and through the high ranges; may your feet carry you safely home. The gate of the mountain is open.’
When Gilgamesh heard this he did as the Man-Scorpion had said, he followed the sun’s road to his rising, through the mountain. When he had gone one league the darkness became thick around him, for there was no light, he could see nothing ahead and nothing behind him. After two leagues the darkness was thick and there was no light, he could see nothing ahead and nothing behind him. After three leagues the darkness was thick, and there was no light, he could see nothing ahead and nothing behind him. After four leagues the darkness was thick and there was no light, he could see nothing ahead and nothing behind him. At the end of five leagues the darkness was thick and there was no light, he could see nothing ahead and nothing behind him. At the end of six leagues the darkness was thick and there was no light, he could see nothing ahead and nothing behind him. When he had gone seven leagues the darkness was thick and there was no light, he could see nothing ahead and nothing behind him. When he had gone eight leagues Gilgamesh gave a great cry, for the darkness was thick and he could see nothing ahead and nothing behind him. After nine leagues he felt the north wind on his face, but the darkness was thick and there was no light, he could see nothing ahead and nothing behind him. After ten leagues the end was near. After eleven leagues the dawn light appeared. At the end of twelve leagues the sun streamed out.
There was the garden of the gods; all round him stood bushes bearing gems. Seeing it he went down at once, for there was fruit of carnelian with the vine hanging from it, beautiful to look at; lapis lazuli leaves hung thick with fruit, sweet to see. For thorns and thistles there were haematite and rare stones, agate, and pearls from out of the sea. While Gilgamesh walked in the garden by the edge of the sea Shamash [the sun god] saw him, and he saw that he was dressed in the skins of animals and ate their flesh. He was distressed, and he spoke and said, ‘No mortal man has gone this way before, nor will, as long as the winds drive over the sea.’ And to Gilgamesh he said, ‘You will never find the [eternal] life for which you are searching.’ Gilgamesh said to glorious Shamash, ‘Now that I have toiled and strayed so far over the wilderness, am I to sleep, and let the earth cover my head for ever’ Let my eyes see the sun until they are dazzled with looking. Although I am no better than a dead man, still let me see the light of the sun.”
—The Epic of Gilgamesh, circa. 3000 BC, translated by N.K. Sandars, 1960.
the couch of many colours
He had wisdom and a comely face, he will not come again;
He is gone into the mountain, he will not come again;
On the bed of fate he lies, he will not rise again,
From the couch of many colours he will not come again.
—lament for the death of Gilgamesh, the world’s last great ruler. From The Epic of Gilgamesh, circa. 3000 BC, translated by N.K. Sandars, 1960.
Why does Aurora Illinois hate color?
AURORA — If you still have your Christmas lights up, consider this your warning.
Aldermen approved a much-discussed ordinance Tuesday night that imposes deadlines and fines on those who choose to hang on to the holidays a little longer than most.
Popularly known as the Christmas light ordinance, the new law sets a 60-day grace period after holidays for residents to remove their seasonal decorations.
Those who don’t could face a fine of $50, and the same fee applies for those who hang up their lights 60 days in advance of a holiday. . . .
The ordinance is the brainchild of 2nd Ward Alderman Juany Garza, who could not be there to see it approved, as she was recovering from surgery. . . .
—Andre Salles from the article City: Take Down Those Christmas Lights at SuburbanChicagoNews.com, 3/01/06.
It smelled like turpentine and looked like India ink
She bent down and turned around and gave me a wink
She said, “I’m gonna mix it up right here in the sink”
It smelled like turpentine and looked like India ink
I held my nose, I closed my eyes, I took a drink.
—Love Potion #9, written by Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller in 1959.
a blue word
“Early in its history, blue acquired symbolic meanings which are diametrically opposed. As the color of the clear sky and of the sea (both good), it came to be the symbol of purity, of fidelity, of staunchness, and of faith, and, by symbolic extension, it was chosen as one of the colors of the Virgin. Perhaps simultaneously (since both extremes involve morality and seem to be connected with the Christian religion), a flame which burned blue came to be associated with the flames of burning brimstone and therefore of hell; such a flame, quite logically, was regarded by the superstitious as an omen of death or other evil or was believed to indicate the presence of ghosts or evil spirits or of the devil himself. From these beliefs, it seems probable, developed blue-blazes, meaning hell, and such statements as “he talked blue” and “he made the air blue,” meaning, respectively, “He talked obscenely” and “He cursed and swore”: cursing or sinful talk would evoke evil spirits or the devil, whose sulphurous presence would cause flames to burn blue. Such talk, again logically, although this is admittedly conjecture, would become blue talk, and an oath or a curse a blue word.”
—Joseph P. Roppolo in American Speech, Vol. XXVII, No. 1, as quoted in Heavens to Betsy! and Other Curious Sayings by Charles Earle Funk, 1955.
to talk a blue streak.
To talk rapidy and, usually, interminably. We seem to have made this up from two or more other American expressions, all referring to lightning. As long ago as 1830 . . . mail coaches, though drawn by horses, moved with such rapidity as to leave a “blue streak” behind them. And if one “made a streak for home” . . . he ran like lightning.
—Charles Earle Funk, from Heavens to Betsy! and Other Curious Sayings, 1955.
to know chalk from cheese.
There was a time when coloring matter was not used in the making of cheese. Consequently, chalk and cheese were of the same whiteness. Such, at least, was the state of affairs in the fourteenth century . . . [when] comparisons of chalk with cheese began to crop up at every opportunity. . . . Such comparisons carry on to the present time from habit, though for several centuries the two substances no longer have had even a superficial resemblance.
—Charles Earle Funk, from Heavens to Betsy! and Other Curious Sayings, 1955.
between the devil and the deep blue sea.
On the horns of a dilemma; between equally perilous dangers. . . . “Devil,” in this phrase—as also in “the devil to pay”—is a nautical term. In the days when hulls were of wooden construction, the term was applied to a seam between two planks which, because of its location or of its length, was especially accursed by sailors. In this instance, “devil” probably referred to the seam on a ship’s deck nearest the side; hence, the longest seam on the deck, extending on a curve from stem to stern, and, from its location, a most dangerous one to calk or fill with pitch. Anyone between the devil and the deep (blue) sea had a very narrow footing, a narrow margin for choice.
—Charles Earle Funk, from Heavens to Betsy! and Other Curious Sayings, 1955.
to trip the light fantastic.
To dance. In full, the expression is “to trip the light fantastic toe.” It comes from John Milton’s L’Allegro (1632). . . :
Come, and trip it as ye go
On the light fantastick toe.
—Charles Earle Funk, from Heavens to Betsy! and Other Curious Sayings, 1955.
ivory tower.
When Charles-Augustin Sainte-Beuve, French literary critic of the early nineteenth century, coined this term he thought of it as applicable to the aerie of a poet, a place where he could retire from the world, a retreat. . . .
Though long held by the poets, the “ivory tower” has been invaded by others in recent years. It is still aloof from the common run and is still a sanctum, but, whether secluded or not, it is now a remote observation post that is open to philosophers, college professors, various writers, an occasional editor, and others who may, as from a place of vantage, watch the world go by.
—Charles Earle Funk, from Heavens to Betsy! and Other Curious Sayings, 1955.