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Let us therefore agree that the idea of eternal return implies a perspective from which things appear other than as we know them: they appear without the mitigating circumstance of their transitory nature.
In the sunset of dissolution, everything is illuminated by the aura of nostalgia, even the guillotine.
for in this world everything is pardoned in advance and therefore everything cynically permitted.
If eternal return is the heaviest of burdens, then our lives can stand out against it in all their splendid lightness.
The heavier the burden, the closer our lives come to the earth, the more real and truthful they become.
We can never know what to want, because, living only one life, we can neither compare it with our previous lives nor perfect it in our lives to come.
And what can life be worth if the first rehearsal for life is life itself? That is why life is always like a sketch. No, “sketch” is not quite the word, because a sketch is an outline of something, the groundwork for a picture, whereas the sketch that is our life is a sketch for nothing, an outline with no picture.
If we have only one life to live, we might as well not have lived at all.
Metaphors are not to be trifled with. A single metaphor can give birth to love.
Needing to create a compromise between fear and desire, he devised what he called “erotic friendship.”
Love does not make itself felt in the desire for copulation (a desire that extends to an infinite number of women) but in the desire for shared sleep (a desire limited to one woman).
He was inconsistent: first he disavowed his infidelities, then he tried to justify them.
“compassion” means: we cannot look on coolly as others suffer; or, we sympathize with those who suffer.
That is why the word “compassion” generally inspires suspicion; it designates what is considered an inferior, second-rate sentiment that has little to do with love. To love someone out of compassion means not really to love.
For there is nothing heavier than compassion. Not even one’s own pain weighs so heavy as the pain one feels with someone, for someone, a pain intensified by the imagination and prolonged by a hundred echoes.
Es muss sein!”);
the love story of his life exemplified not “Es muss sein!” (It must be so), but rather “Es könnte auch anders sein” (It could just as well be otherwise).
If a mother was Sacrifice personified, then a daughter was Guilt, with no possibility of redress.
Without realizing it, the individual composes his life according to the laws of beauty even in times of greatest distress.
Anachronistic.”
antithesis.
To rebel against being born a woman seemed as foolish to her as to take pride in it.
Her drama was a drama not of heaviness but of lightness. What fell to her lot was not the burden but the unbearable lightness of being.
The thing that gives our every move its meaning is always totally unknown to us.
Yes, a husband’s funeral is a wife’s true wedding! The climax of her life’s work! The reward for her sufferings!
Perhaps the reason we are unable to love is that we yearn to be loved, that is, we demand something (love) from our partner instead of delivering ourselves up to him demand-free and asking for nothing but his company.

