Afracious

“You cannot decide all the sensory stimuli in your environment, your hormone levels this morning, whether something traumatic happened to you in the past, the socioeconomic status of your parents, your fetal environment, your genes, whether your ancestors were farmers or herders. Let me state this most broadly, probably at this point too broadly for most readers: we are nothing more or less than the cumulative biological and environmental luck, over which we had no control, that has brought us to any moment.”
― Robert M. Sapolsky, Determined: A Science of Life without Free Will

“In an essay on the subject some years ago, Paul Goodman wrote: “The question is not whether pornography, but the quality of the pornography.” That’s exactly right. One could extend the thought a good deal further. The question is not whether consciousness or whether knowledge, but the quality of the consciousness and of the knowledge. And that invites consideration of the quality or fineness of the human subject—the most problematic standard of all. It doesn’t seem inaccurate to say most people in this society who aren’t actively mad are, at best, reformed or potential lunatics. But is anyone supposed to act on this knowledge, even genuinely live with it? If so many are teetering on the verge of murder, dehumanization, sexual deformity and despair, and we were to act on that thought, then censorship much more radical than the indignant foes of pornography ever envisage seems in order. For if that’s the case, not only pornography but all forms of serious art and knowledge—in other words, all forms of truth—are suspect and dangerous.”
― Susan Sontag, Against Interpretation and Other Essays

“Existential dread to philosophy’s end in an objectively indignant and unknowable universe is principally all we shall ever expect to bear and intuit but more importantly were intended to observe in dull harmonious respite, the congenital lack of a resolving creation myth or prime reason to exist, for anything to survive and billions of years lay dormant for the incidental arrival of our brains unwillingly limited to these strictures that were already set for us by the dawning of contumacious evolution without cause but local expedience, no matter the latest surge of scientific ingenuity or imagined promise in our comprehension of the universe’s layered and aimless design by scoping the hanging stars gripped by a listless Milky Way within speculative aeons of unshored blackness, only a dubious reasoning to our being ever spun and plied from the remaining equally unknowable shunted gaze of the cosmos.”
― Jacob H. Kyle, The Tedium Lies

“Here is the confession
once made by a patient to Brierre de Boismont, which perfectly
describes the condition: 'I am employed in a business house. I perform
my regular duties satisfactorily but like an automaton, and when
spoken to, the words sound to me as though echoing in a void. My
greatest torment is the thought of suicide, from which I am never free.
I have been the victim of this impulse for a year; at first it was insignificant; then for about the last two months it has pursued me everywhere,
yet I have no reason to kill myself. . . . My health is good; no one in my family
has been similarly afflicted; I have had no financial losses, my income is
adequate and permits me the pleasures of people of my age.”
― Durkheim Emile, Suicide: A Study in Sociology