“You I pity, twice unhappy stars,
Being lovely, blessed with bright effulgence,
Gladly shedding light for ships in danger,
Yet by gods and mortals unrewarded:
Love you cannot, never yet knew love!
But incessantly eternal hours
Move your ranks through vast celestial spaces.
O, what distant journeys you’ve completed
Since, reposing in my loved one’s arms,
You and midnight wholly I forgot.”—
“There can be no truth that could be brought out absolutely through syllogisms alone, but the necessity of establishing truth merely through syllogisms is always only relative, indeed subjective. As all proofs are syllogisms, we must first seek for a new truth not a proof, but direct evidence, and only so long as this is wanting is the proof to be furnished for the time being. No science can be capable of demonstration throughout any more than a building can stand in the air. All its proofs must refer to something perceived, and hence no longer capable of proof, for the whole world of reflection rests on, and is rooted in, the world of perception.
[…] Syllogisms are not the essential and only source of knowledge, but are always in fact only a makeshift.
[…] Proofs are generally less for those who want to learn than for those who want to dispute.”—
Arthur Schopenhauer, The World as Will and Representation
“We have dreams; may not the whole of life be a dream? or more exactly: is there a sure criterion for distinguishing between dream and reality, between phantasms and real objects? The plea that what is dreamt has less vividness and distinctness than real perception has, is not worth considering at all, for no one has held the two up to comparison; only the recollection of the dream could be compared with the present reality.
we easily mistake dreams for reality when we have unintentionally fallen asleep in our clothes, and particularly when it happens that some undertaking or scheme occupies all our thoughts, and engrosses our attention in our dreams as well as in our waking moments. In these cases, the waking is almost as little observed as is the falling asleep;
If subsequently, as is often the case, the causal connexion with the present, or the absence of such connexion, cannot possibly be ascertained, then it must remain for ever undecided whether an event was dreamt or whether it really occurred.”—Arthur Schopenhauer, The World as Will and Representation §5, pp. 16–17
“it is Mâyâ, the veil of deception, which covers the eyes of mortals, and makes them behold a world of which one cannot say either that it is or that it is not; for it is like a dream, like the sunshine on the sand which the traveller from a distance takes to be water, or like the piece of rope he regards as a snake.”—
“Let me then be destroyed. For that is the only way I may have a chance of surviving. Let those feelings uniquely call forth sexual love, my life’s passion and pain, my learnt desirability figured out of primeval undesirability, let them prevail… This time I want to do it differently. You may be weaker than the whole world but you are always stronger than yourself. Let me send my power against my power. So what if I die. Let me discover what is it that I wanted and fear from love. Power and love, might and grace. That I might desire again. I would be the Lover, and barely the Beloved. I have not yet told the whole of this story. This time, unhappy love, sempiternal, has an additional declension.”—Gillian Rose, Love’s Work: A Reckoning with Life
stealing small pink rosaries, au fur et à mesure, she writes a quick retort on an obscure incident of jean genet making soup, i murder her partner, she knows more than i will approach, we head north, the sun is setting