del sentimiento trágico de la vida desbarajustada

Unamuno, I was taught in an elementary Spanish class some time in the neo-paleolithic, es único (not because he is, though the proposition is fairly defensible), but because of the assonance-or-whatever of the juxtaposition, which was supposed to make the phrase stick in your head (which it did -- in my cabeza, at least -- so that I ended up reading Del Sentimiento Trágico de la Vida and was gobsmacked by Unamuno's phenomenal erudition, but what now stays with me is just the title, which resonates ever more painfully as the years go by). Unamuno it was, too, I think, who wrote, San Manuel Bueno, Martirio, the singular theological point of which, if it doesn't escape me, is that faith and the comfort it comports can sometimes by imparted to others even by a soul to whom it is denied by his innate, relentless, unforgiving rationalism (that can even be his geas): somewhat on an analogy with Moses' success in leading his people to the promised land, only to be denied that sight in his own life. This doesn't actually correspond to mypersonal experience, since though an inveterate rationalist, I'm also a person of faith, but the tragedy of it did always strike me, irony being, I suppose, of all tragedies, the most unendurable.