We all have our games. Life is a game of games. We work. We play. Still, too many of us grow too full of our own shit. We think our games are better than other people’s games. Our religion. Our art. Our philosophy. Our politics. Games.
The philosopher thinks deeply and the poet feels deeply. Mercy upon the philosopher-poet whose lot is such a doubling of depths.
When a question mark seals the gate of eternity, every moment of life is invested with renewed importance.
What the hell do I know?
The promise of tomorrow is a poor trade for the presence of today.
A decadent civilization compromises with its disease, cherishes the virus infecting it, loses its self-respect.
E. M. Cioran
We’ve come to a point where the only acceptable judgement is against judgement itself, where only forbidding is forbidden.
Observations and meditations
Philosophy isn’t one thing, but rather the depth of all things.