To be a pessimist in the conventional sense is not only cowardly but futile: there is no escaping the eternal agonizing drama of existence, so one exults in it, by ceasing, if only temporarily, to be one. If one attempts, as all philosophers have, even Schopenhauer, to give a moral justification of existence, the failure of the attempt will be embarrassingly evident, and refuge will have to be taken in ever-wilder imaginings to redeem our sufferings, which are inevitable and incurable. The moralist’s plans for improving the lot of mankind by remedial action are like pissing in the sea. If one
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