Logic suggests that having options allows people to select precisely what makes them happiest, but as studies show, excessive choice often makes for misery.
"Karanlık kötülükle değil, yalnızca bastırılmış yaşamla eş tutulmalıdır. Bu nedenle, karanlık potansiyel açısından zengindir. Bunun bilincine varmak bizi daha tam insan, daha ilginç kılar.Karanlık tarafı olmayan bir insan olağanüstü derecede yavan ve ilgi çekici değildir. En karanlık dürtülerimizin yanı sıra bastırılmış yaratıcılığımızın
Reklam
"Love doesn’t even have the decency to die. It just transforms into abject misery."
Entangled : Red Tower BooksKitabı okuyor
The Sorrows of Young Werther
“Sometimes I don't understand how another can love her, is allowed to love her, since I love her so completely myself, so intensely, so fully, grasp nothing, know nothing, have nothing but her!” “Is this the destiny of man? Is he only happy before he has acquired his reason or after he has lost it?” “What a torment it is to see so much loveliness passing and repassing before us, and yet not dare to lay hold of it!” “Every day I observe more and more the folly of judging of others by ourselves; and I have so much trouble with myself, and my own heart is in such constant agitation, that I am well content to let others pursue their own course, if they only allow me the same privilege.” “In happy ignorance, I sighed for a world I did not know, where I hoped to find every pleasure and enjoyment which my heart could desire; and now, on my return from that wide world... how many disappointed hopes and unsuccessful plans have I brought back!” “Must it ever be thus-that the source of our happiness must also be the fountain of our misery? The full and ardent sentiment which animated my heart with the love of nature, overwhelming me with a torrent of delight, and which brought all paradise before me, has now become an insupportable torment, a demon which perpetually pursues and harrasses me.”
The monster saw my determination in my face, and gnashed his teeth in the impotence of anger. "Shall each man," cried he, "find a wife for his bosom, and each beast have his mate, and I be alone? I had feelings of affection, and they were requited by detestation and scorn. Man, you may hate; but beware! Your hours will pass in dread and misery, and soon the bolt will fall which must ravish from you your happiness for ever. Are you to be happy, while I grovel in the intensity of my wretchedness? You can blast my other passions; but revenge remains -- revenge, henceforth dearer than light or food! I may die; but first you, my tyrant and tormentor, shall curse the sun that gazes on your misery. Beware; for I am fearless, and therefore powerful. I will watch with the wiliness of a snake, that I may sting with its venom. Man, you shall repent of the injuries you inflict."
It is hard enough to accept that this is what the physical body amounts to. But what about a person’s anger? What about her voice? Her laughter? Her arrogance? Her irreverence? Her humor, her ego, her honor, her character? Do these fingerprints of an individual life simply evaporate and disappear with the last exhale? And if that is so, what use all this struggle, misery, and strife? What difference whether a woman ever lived or not? Whether she was loved or unloved, educated or illiterate, wanted or unwanted by her parents, whether or not she suffered hurt and betrayal, or whether she still managed to retain her humanity and nobility? In the end, Bhima thinks, it doesn’t matter. It is all ash and dust. This is what it means to be human, she thinks: grains of dust arranged in human form—some dark, some light, some tall, some short, some male, some female. And in the end, the same gust of wind breaks them all down.
Reklam
There the companions of his fall, o’erwhelmed With floods and whirlwinds of tempestuous fire, He soon discerns, and weltering by his side One next himself in power, and next in crime, Long after known in Palestine, and named Beelzebub. To whom the arch-enemy, And thence in heaven called Satan, with bold words Breaking the horrid silence thus
Human beings are so great that they demonstrate their greatness by recognizing their own misery. A tree does not recognize that it is miserable. Of course, it is true that “it is miserable to recognize oneself as miserable,” but then again it is also similarly true that it is greatness itself to recognize oneself as miserable. Thus human misery proves the greatness of all human beings. It is the misery of a king who has lost his throne. …Other than a dethroned king, who among us would feel sadness in not being a king?…Who would feel unlucky to have only one mouth? Moreover, who would not feel unlucky to have only one eye? No one who lived would ever think it sad that they had not three eyes, but if they had but one, they would be beyond consolation. —Blaise Pascal
I had experienced in my life, but it was also a very shallow misery which at any time could have been relieved completely by a word from him and transformed into idiotic happiness.
The life of an animal is misery and slavery.
Sayfa 6 - MK PublicationsKitabı okuyor
Reklam
Every Night & every Morn Some to Misery are Born Every Morn and every Night Some are Born to sweet delight Some are Born to sweet delight Some are Born to Endless Night
Öyle bir şeydir ki bu kibir, insanı kendi elindekiyle değil de başkasının sefaletini görerek mutlu olmaya iter. It is such a thing that arrogance drives a person to find happiness not in what they have but by observing the misery of others.
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Puan vermedi
This is a powerful book by a truly insightful author. I recently read Harari's previous great book, Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind, and I enjoyed this one just as much. There is so much packed into Homo Deus: A Brief History of Tomorrow, that it is hard to do justice to the book in a review. Yuval Harari has such a unique insight into
Homo Deus: Yarının Kısa Bir Tarihi
Homo Deus: Yarının Kısa Bir TarihiYuval Noah Harari · Kolektif Kitap · 201711,9bin okunma
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