Thus strangely are our souls constructed, and by such slight ligaments are we bound to prosperity or ruin. When I look back, it seems to me as if this almost miraculous change of inclination and will was the immediate suggestion of the guardian angel of my life --the last effort made by the spirit of preservation to avert the storm that was even then hanging in the stars and ready to envelop me. Her victory was announced by an unusual tranquillity and gladness of soul which followed the relinquishing of my ancient and latterly tormenting studies. It was thus that I was to be taught to associate evil with their prosecution, happiness with their disregard.
Sayfa 30
“And so it seems I must always write you letters that I can never send.”
— Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals Of Sylvia Plath
I cannot stand this hell I feel
Life, it seems, will fade away
Drifting further, every day
Getting lost within myself
Nothing matters, no one else
I have lost the will to live
Simply nothing more to give
There is nothing more for me
Need the end to set me free..
youtu.be/9HZ_tx8aWuA?si=...
Denji: Just when life seems super awesome, as soon as you let your guard down, some crappy thing happens outta nowhere and screws it all up, right?! You know life isn't all bad... But day in, day out all you can remember is the bad stuff and the disasters keep pilin' up like a hamburger made of crap, right?
"Perhaps the clearest and most certain thing that can be said about postmodernism is that it is a very unclear and very much contested concept. Celebrated by some as a new wave of emancipation from the stifling constraints of modern ideologies that have grown stagnantly conservative and elitist, postmodernism is conversely con- demned for confining us in its own prison-house of conservatism for encouraging an attitude of slackening by its scepticism regarding the notions of progress and originality, by its advocacy of appropriation and recycling, and by its ideology of the end of ideology. But the controversy over postmodernism goes well beyond the question of its value. Its very meaning, scope, and character are so vague, ambiguous, and deeply contested that it has been challenged as a pernicious, illegitimate non concept. Advocates reply that the concept's very vagueness usefully challenges the view that concepts must be clear to be meaningful, fruitful, and important.
How exactly we determine the legitimacy of a concept is a fascinating question in itself. Is conceptual legitimacy a matter of logical coherence, reference to the real, entrenched usage, practical utility? In any case, the concept of postmodernism seems, for the moment, to be adequately vindicated by the profusion of scholarly work that is dedicated to its clarification and elaboration in the various arts and other forms of cultural production since the latter part of the twentieth century."
Çalmadığı bir bedenim kaldı diyor, adamı da diyor ki satsan onu da alır :D
"And you know that fellow who bought all the furniturw! He was buying for Farfrae, it seems!"
"My furniture too! Why he'll have my body next!"
"Perhaps he will, if you're ready to sell."
Sayfa 67Kitabı okudu
Time travels in divers paces with divers persons. With us it ambled, trotted, and galloped all through October. (It never stood still until the morning of November the twenty-second, and it seems, to me at least, that it hasn’t really moved since then.)
Scene 11Kitabı okudu
"It is true: we love life not because we are accustomed to life but because we are accustomed to love.
There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness.
And even to me, one who likes life, it seems butterflies and soap bubbles and whatever is of their kind among human beings know most about happiness."
On Reading and WritingKitabı okuyor
“So he was sick? Like he got hurt? Welcome to the world, mofo. It hurts a lot, and dying slowly seems to be our fucking job here.”
“No,” I said. “Seems like just yesterday my dad was shouting at me for throwing my life away.”
Alexander snorted. “What was it he said to you?”
“‘You’re going to turn down a scholarship at Case Western and spend the next four years in makeup and panty hose, making love to some girl through a window?’”
“Art school” alone was enough to provoke my rigidly practical father, but more often than not Dellecher’s dangerous exclusivity was the cause of raised eyebrows. Why should intelligent, talented students risk forcible ejection from their school at the end of each year and graduate without even a traditional degree to show for their survival? What most people who lived outside the strange sphere of conservatory education didn’t realize was that a Dellecher certificate was like one of Willy Wonka’s golden tickets—guaranteed to grant the bearer admission to the elite artistic and philological sodalities that survived outside of academia.
Scene 4Kitabı okudu