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A psychotic world we live in. The madmen are in power.
they are purposely cruel . . . is that it? No. God, he thought. I can’t find it, make it clear. Do they ignore parts of reality? Yes. But it is more. It is their plans. Yes, their plans. The conquering of the planets.
Ehre itself, honor; the abstract is real, the actual is invisible to them. Die Güte,
They see through the here, the now, into the vast black deep beyond, the unchanging. And that is fatal to life. Because eventually there will be no life;
And, he thought, I know why. They want to be the agents, not the victims, of history. They identify with God’s power and believe they are godlike.
What they do not comprehend is man’s helplessness. I am weak, small, of no consequence to the universe. It does not notice me; I live on unseen. But why is that bad? Isn’t it better that way? Whom the gods notice they destroy. Be small . . . and you will escape the jealousy of the great.
You can’t have good fortune and doom simultaneously. Or . . . can you?
those physicists and that synchronicity theory, every particle being connected with every other; you can’t fart without changing the balance in the universe.
many books are actually alive. Not in metaphoric fashion. Spirit animates it. Do you see?”
You know the old brownshirt term for people who spin philosophy? Eierkopf. Egghead. Because the big double-domed empty heads break so easily . . . in the street brawls.”
Yes, that is artist’s job: takes mineral rock from dark silent earth transforms it into shining light-reflecting form from sky.
Body of yin, soul of yang. Metal and fire unified. The outer and inner; microcosmos in my palm.
Sicherheitsdienst.
Why struggle, then? Why choose? If all alternatives are the same . . .
Death at each moment, one avenue which is open to us at any point. And eventually we choose it, in spite of ourselves. Or we give up and take it deliberately.
