But soon handsome Fuchsl was stolen, or perhaps he chased another rat back across the front. Hitler’s beloved mother was dead. Artillery had buried his friends at Ypres. Then the disappearance of the English dog broke his heart. What did he have left? Virtually nothing, except he could make himself feel better by hating the Jews. Of course, we don’t know the precise moment Hitler decided to become an antisemite, but antisemitism, as the 20th century existentialist Jean-Paul Sartre wrote, was an easy way for an antisemite to feel better about himself without having done anything on his own. And as the 19th century Polish-German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche wrote, it was a sign of envy of a weaker culture for a stronger one. The origins of antisemitism are much older, but likely have origins like thes.
Sayfa 39 - pdfKitabı okuyor
Men must act, but should never forget that they are incapable of foreseeing the remoter consequences of their actions. Our world is a place where nobody ever gets anything for nothing, where every gain in almost every field has to be paid for, either on the nail or in an indefinitely lengthy series of instalments.
Sayfa 95Kitabı okudu
Modern philosophy and science, from the seventeenth century to the beginning of the twentieth century, had fallen into the bad habit of collapsing the rich complexity of experience to simple schemes, which gave the comfortable illusion of a complete description. These systems diminished the interesting diversity of life to something simple and uninteresting, as when an artistic creation is dismissed, for instance, by claiming it is actually nothing but a utilitarian example of how all human behaviour is motivated by attraction to pleasure and aversion to pain, or just another example of Sigmund Freud’s reduction of childhood to frustrated sexual attraction to parents.
Sayfa 13 - pdfKitabı okuyor
Surplus value is the result either of the appropriation through trade or usury of a value belonging to others, or of the appropriation of new values created by the labour power which has been bought. In the latter case, the surplus value is nothing but the difference between the value created by the worker and the cost of maintaining him. The totality of the capital existing in the world is only the accumulated result of this dual appropriation, as was soon appreciated by sharp observers. Fifteen hundred years before Proudhon borrowed from the Chartist leader O'Brien his famous sally: "What is property? Theft!" the golden-mouthed bishop John Chrysostom told the rich merchants of Antioch: "You possess the results of theft, even if you are not yourselves the thieves."
Sayfa 88
In plain language, I am the end of a line, without merit or brilliance, who would have nothing to leave his descendants if not for the events I am prepared to recount, to the best of my ability, in these
memories of my great love.
It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts.
Sayfa 229 - DumbledoreKitabı okudu
I Worried
I worried a lot. Will the garden grow, will the rivers
flow in the right direction, will the earth turn
as it was taught, and if not how shall
I correct it?
Was I right, was I wrong, will I be forgiven,
can I do better?
Will I ever be able to sing, even the sparrows
can do it and I am, well,
hopeless.
Is my eyesight fading or am I just imagining it,
am I going to get rheumatism,
lockjaw, dementia?
Finally, I saw that worrying had come to nothing.
And gave it up. And took my old body
and went out into the morning,
and sang.
Mary Oliver
"When I get bigger, big enough to go somewhere by myself, I want to go to a land that’s far away. I want to go to a faraway island. I want to go to an island that has no people. I want to go to an island that has no pain or sadness. There are no adults, children, classmates, teachers or my mom on that island. On that island, I can climb a tree when I want to climb, swim in the sea when I want to swim, and sleep when I want to sleep. In the island, I think about the town that I left behind. Kids go to school, as if nothing has changed. Adults go to the office, as if nothing has changed. Mom eats, as if nothing has changed. When I think about the town without me, I feel a sense of relief. I want to go far, far away."
-Hinazuki Kayo
“You humans always think you’re destined for things, for tragedy or for greatness. Destiny is a myth. Destiny is the only myth. The gods choose nothing. You chose.”
Endgame
I say to myself— sometimes, Clov, you must learn
to suffer better than that if you want them to weary of punishing you— one day. I say to myself—sometimes, Clov, you must be better than that if you want them to let you go—one day. But I feel too old, and too far, to form new habits. Good, it'll never end, I'll never go.
Then one day, suddenly, it ends, it changes, I don't understand, it dies, or it's me, I don't understand that either. I ask the words that remain— sleeping, waking, morning, evening. They have nothing to say.
I open the door of the cell and go. I am so bowed I only see my feet, if I open my eyes, and between my legs a little trail of black dust. I say to myself that the earth is extinguished, though I never saw it lit.
It's easy going.
When I fall I'll weep for happiness.
That one sums it up. Absolutely!
Do with me what you will," she whispered.
"Well, then whip me, or I shall go mad."
"Haven't I forbidden you?" said Wanda sternly, "but you are incorrigible."
"Oh, I am so terribly in love."
I had sunken on my knees, and was burying my glowing face in her lap.
"I really believe," said Wanda thoughtfully, "that your madness is nothing but a demonic, unsatisfied sensuality.
Our unnatural way of life must generate such illnesses. Were you less virtuous, you would be completely sane."
Broken I, had I known I was never again to see her,
Or devastated if nothing in me can she remember?
Indeed, what for should she recall or I splinter,
To her I am the brief image - And she may be lost,
One is the angel and the other from the most
Devilish place of all, who distinguish? We are all ghosts,
And so Let this blur of beauty remain,
Though never shall I meet her again,
Nor my youth, my virtue - and those I once took pain
To dear and cherish. They are all ghosts, we are all ghosts,
For we do die every night from someone's memory in the bitter frost,
The same place where we damn all things once we loved the most,
Sayfa 13 - Liu Yi PublishingKitabı okuyor
If time is a subjective experience, does it have an objective existence?
Nothing makes time pass or shortens the way like a thought that absorbs in itself all the faculties of the one who is thinking. External existence is then like a sleep of which this thought is the dream. Under its influence, time has no more measure, space has no more distance.
¢---⋆Σ
“Hiçbir şey, düşünen kişinin tüm yetilerini kendi içinde özümseyen bir düşünce kadar zamanı geçiremez veya yolu kısaltamaz. O halde dış varoluş, bu düşüncenin rüyası olduğu bir uyku gibidir. Onun etkisi altında zamanın ölçüsü kalmaz, uzayın mesafesi kalmaz.”
Inception of perception....Kitabı okudu
