Only to the degree that our moments afford us some contact with death do we have some chance to glimpse on what insanity all existence is based.
In paradise, objects and beings, assaulted by light from all sides, cast no shadow. Which is to say that they lack reality, like anything that is unbroached by darkness and deserted by death.
A human being possessed by a belief and not eager to pass it on to others is a phenomenon alien to the earth, where our mania for salvation makes life unbreathable... Everyone trying to remedy everyone’s life. Society- an inferno of saviors!
There is something enveloping and voluptuous about the notion of fatality: it keeps you warm.
Man will not last. Ambushed by exhaustion, he will have to pay for his too-original career. For it would be inconceivable and contra naturam that he drag on much longer and come to a good end. This prospect is depressing, hence likely.
Death is not altogether useless: after all, it is because of death that we may be able to recuperate the prenatal space, our only space...
If you are doomed to devour yourself, nothing can keep you from it: a trifle will impel you as much as a tragedy. Resign yourself to erosion at all times: your fate wills it so.
I fail to witness the gods’ hilarity at leaving behind the human episode.
In a Gnostic work of the second century of our era, we read: ‘The prayer of a melancholy man will never have the strength to rise unto God.’... Since man prays only in despondency, we may deduce that no prayer has ever reached its destination.
When we have exhausted the pretexts which incite us to gaiety or melancholy, we come to the point of experiencing either one in a pure state: which is how we join the mad...
An existence constantly transfigured by failure.
It may very well be tht man’s sole purpose is none other than to think of god. If we could either love him or ignore him we would be saved.
As the years accumulate, we form an increasingly somber image of the future.
The leftist’s despair is to battle in the name of principles that forbid him cynicism.
Every vanquished desire affords us power.
Meditate but one hour upon the self’s nonexistence and you will feel yourself to be another man,” said a priest of the Japanese Kusha sect.
We have the more hold over this world the further we withdraw from it, the less we adhere to it.
He disliked demonstrating, he wanted to convince no one.
The more injured you are by time, the more you seek to escape it.
In any book governed by the Fragment, truths and whims keep company throughout.