Die Liebe Hoeret Nimmer Auf

A recent search for what the above phrase means in English has made it to my blog. To the best of my knowledge, this translates literally to “Love never ceases,” and is a line from I Corinthians 13: “Love never ends.”

The man downstairs from me seems to be using his Ulysses grammophone: “Hello? Hello? Hello?”


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8 Responses to Die Liebe Hoeret Nimmer Auf

  1. Jessica Smith says:

    Now the man downstairs is listening to Mr. Rogers, very very loudly.

  2. Jessica Smith says:

    I always imagine (and Derrida would appreciate this) the grammophone saying: “I can’t come back, I don’t know how it works!”

  3. Steven Fama says:

    What’s a Ulysses grammophone?

  4. Steven Fama says:

    For many years, the neighbors next door to me here in SF, where houses are built literally wall-to-wall, had a parrot in a cage on their patio. When the bird was awake (and it didn’t seem to sleep much) it fairly constantly and loudly said “Mommm – Meeee” [irregular pause] “Mommm – Meee” [irregular pause] “Mommm – Meee” in exactly the tone you might imagine being used by a ten year child who is being strangled during a kidnapping.

    No lie. I don’t now how I put it with it for so long; the neighbors and their bird moved four years ago.

    During that same period, the other next door neighbor had a little dog that was so sensitive (neurotic) that if it was out in their yard and I had the kitchen window open it would go off on a ten-minute yippy-yappy barking jag if I so much as opened a cupboard and took out a dish.

    Good luck with the man downstairs.

  5. zoe krylova says:

    i used to live in san francisco above a man who — when ever i dropped something on the floor or moved a chair — would start pounding on the ceiling and yelling “martha!!!!!! get in here!!!!!” (my name is not martha)

    i eventually confronted him about it and he just stared blankly past me and proceeded to tell me about the grand painting collection he had hanging in his entry hall.

    things got really bad when a drum & bass dj moved in below him.

  6. Steven Fama says:

    That’s a good story Zoe.

    For a most excellent prose-poem on the subject of bothersome neighbors, please allow me to recommend “The New Neighbors” by Seattle’s John Olson.

    It can be read at:


    If that link ain’t “live” (I don’t have the html codes figured out), please forgive me, and cut and paste the link into your browser, if you are interested.

  7. phaneronoemikon says:

    this is fascinating.

    for me there is a conflational
    opportunity between

    Love never ceases
    and Ulysses Grammophone

    for love to become [pause]
    the endlessness of the surface
    of inscription as ‘boundary’
    [read paradox] of circumscription

    ie the hermeneutic infinite

    The “hellos” being the abstracted genitive of the surface (like the siren) calling for the interpretant.

    it’s that interplay between
    semiosis and poetry

    that hymen(aos) that implies both
    marriage and the break with virginity (read as linear, semantic, literal (ality))..

    hello hello
    are like the cupules in cave art
    or later, with a bit more artifice
    the pyxos

    or little boxes

    logic morphologies
    which traverse the ladder of abstraction flibbetigibbeting
    a “drawing-langue” of (1,0)void-full(0,1) [fully configureable]

    but analogue.. you know

    Mister Rogers..

    It’s a beautiful day
    as opposed to an ugly night

    the nested polarities
    of our object-subject

    borne about the sine-sign-syn

    thesis ( )..

    I like thinking of love
    as ‘deregulated hermeneutics’

    or perhaps more quietly

    as the original ‘floating signifier’

    those moments flowers caught
    the breeze..

    some such..

    marvy post, that german..

  8. Jessica Smith says:

    ha– i’m glad people find this inspiring.

    steve, “Ulysses grammophone” is an essay by Derrida, I think it’s in Acts of Literature. I’m using the term to nod to Derrida’s chronolibidinal motif while naming a phenomenon Bloom imagines in Ulysses, a way of hearing the dead.

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