Thursday, September 23, 2004
Thoughts
It belongs to the imperfection of everything human that man can only attain his desire by passing through its opposite.
There are, as is known, insects that die in the moment of fertilization. So it is with all joy: life's highest, most splendid moment of enjoyment is accompanied by death.
This is what is sad when one contemplates human life, that so many live out their lives in quiet lostness - they live, as it were, away from themselves and vanish like shadows. Their immortal souls are blown away, and they are not disquieted by the question of its immortality, because they are already disintegrated before they die.
The more a person can forget, the greater the number of metamorphoses which their life can undergo, the more a person can remember the more divine their life becomes.
Truth always rests with the minority, and the minority is always stronger than the majority, because the minority is generally formed by those who really have an opinion, while the strength of a majority is illusory, formed by the gangs who have no opinion - and who, therefore, in the next instant (when it is evident that the minority is the stronger) assume its opinion . . . while Truth again reverts to a new minority.
Most pursue pleasure with such breathless haste that they hurry past it.
- posted by -g @ 4:12 PM | | 0 rocks in pond
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