4 months ago in ILS
 5 months ago

Scham; vor wem und für wen?

Wozu sich für Trauer oder Schmerzen schämen, vor Leuten, die selber kaum lebendig sind, und nichts nobleres im Leben kenne, als die Lebendigkeit bei sich und anderen zu unterdrücken? Denn vor den anderen braucht man sich nicht schämen, die können damit gar nichts anfangen.
You know my old saying, "Slavery was never abolished, it was only extended to include all the colors."

And what hurts is the steadily diminishing humanity of those fighting to hold jobs they don't want but fear the alternative worse. People simply empty out. They are bodies with fearful and obedient minds. The color leaves the eye. The voice becomes ugly. And the body. The hair. The fingernails. The shoes. Everything does.
We’re all going to die, all of us, what a circus! That alone should make us love each other but it doesn’t. We are terrorized and flattened by trivialities, we are eaten up by nothing.
Nobody can save you but yourself - and you’re worth saving. It’s a war not easily won but if anything is worth winning - this is it.
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 5 months ago in photos of her
 5 months ago in photos of her
 5 months ago in photos of her
 5 months ago in photos of her
 5 months ago in ILS
Don't compromise yourself. It's all you've got.
Don't depend too much on anyone in this world because even your own shadow leaves you when you are in darkness.
If, in Récoltes et Semailles I'm addressing anyone besides myself, it isn't what's called a "public". Rather I'm addressing that someone who is prepared to read me as a person, and as a solitary person. It's to that being inside of you who knows how to be alone, it is to this infant that I wish to speak, and no-one else. I'm well aware that this infant has been considerably estranged. It's been through some hard times, and more than once over a long period. It's been dropped off Lord knows where, and it can be very difficult to reach. One swears that it died ages ago, or that it never existed - and yet I am certain it's always there, and very much alive.
"The Life of a Mathematician - Reflections and Bearing Witness" (1986)

work in progress.
Sie schreiben so schön über das "wenn man gerade so weit ist, daß man anfangen könnte" - es hat mich so gefreut. Es ist eben immer noch wahr, daß die Götter ihre Lieblinge jung sterben lassen, zwar nicht wörtlich, aber in dem Sinne, daß sie ihnen zum Entgelt den Trost des Alters "alt und des Lebens satt" nicht gönnen. Das zweideutige ironische Geschenk der Götter ist, daß der Tod immer noch etwas finden muß, was er zugrunde richtet, daß er also bleibt, was er in der Jugend war. [..] Das ist der Preis, den man zahlt dafür, daß man lebendig ist, solange man am Leben ist.
Hannah Arendt in einem Brief an Karl Jaspers, 1951