Volume 5 of my favorite book quotations coming your way!
It’s good that you feel pain. If it stopped hurting, you’d have something seriously wrong with you.
Wouldn’t it be fun to imagine reason, will and desire engaged in a fierce debate around a table?
…the more desperately we try to be good and wonderful and perfect, the more the shadow develops a definite will to be black and evil and destructive. The fact is that if one tries beyond one’s capacity to be perfect, the shadow descends to hell and becomes the devil. For it is as sinful from the standpoint of nature and of truth to be above oneself as to be below oneself.
But there are certain meanings that are lost forever the moment they are explained in words
I assume you already know about the good parts: feeling loved and adored; knowing there’s one person in the world who will always be on your side; getting into bed every night with someone strong and tender who wants to fuck you. That’s happiness for me.
He said that love was an emotion contra natura that condemned two strangers to a base and unhealthy dependence and the more intense it was, the more ephemeral.
Find what you love and let it kill you.
Let it drain you from all. Let it cling onto your back and weigh you down into eventual nothingness. Let it kill you and let it devour your remains.
As he read I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly and then all at once
The problem was precision, perfection; the problem was digitization, which sucked the life out of everything that got smeared through its microscopic mesh. Film, photography, music: dead. An aesthetic holocaust.
…one key ingredient of so-called experience is the delusional faith that it is unique and special, that those included in it are privileged and those excluded from it are missing out.
‘Time is a goon, right? You gonna let that goon push you around?’ Scotty shook his head. ‘The goon won.’
Love me because love doesn’t exist and I have tried everything that does.
~Jonathan Safran Foer
The fact remains that getting people right is not what living is all about anyway. It’s getting them wrong that is living, getting them wrong and wrong and wrong and then, on careful reconsideration, getting them wrong again. That’s how we know we’re alive: we’re wrong. Maybe the best thing would be to forget being right or wrong about people and just go along for the ride. But if you can do that – well, lucky you.
After all, what they sit around calling the ‘past’ at these things isn’t a fragment of a fragment of the past. It’s the past undetonated – nothing is really brought back, nothing. It’s nostalgia. It’s bullshit.
He had learned the worst lesson that life can teach – that it makes no sense. And when that happens the happiness is never spontaneous again. It is artificial and, even then bought at the price of an obstinate estrangement from oneself and one’s history.
Madness and provocation. Nothing recognizable. Nothing plausible. No context in which it hangs together. He no longer hangs together. Even his capacity for suffering no longer exists.
I suspect the truth is that we are waiting, all of us, against insurmountable odds, for something extraordinary to happen to us.
I learned that the world didn’t see the inside of you, that it didn’t care a whit about the hopes and dreams and sorrows, that lay masked by skin and bone. It was as simple, as absurd, and as cruel as that. My patients knew this. They saw that much of what they were, would be, or could be hinged on the symmetry of their bone structure, the space between their eyes, their chin length, the tip projection of their nose, whether they had an ideal nasofrontal angle or not. Beauty is an enormous, unmerited gift given randomly, stupidly
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