Showing posts tagged naranzarian
You cannot find peace by avoiding life.

— Virginia Woolf

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When you feel perpetually unmotivated, you start questioning your existence in an unhealthy way; everything becomes a pseudo intellectual question you have no interest in responding whatsoever. This whole process becomes your very skin and it does not merely affect you; it actually defines you. So, you see yourself as a shadowy figure unworthy of developing interest, unworthy of wondering about the world - profoundly unworthy in every sense and deeply absent in your very presence.

— Ingmar Bergman

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A zoologist who observed gorillas in their native habitat was amazed by the uniformity of their life and their vast idleness. Hours and hours without doing anything. Was boredom unknown to them? This is indeed a question raised by a human, a busy ape. Far from fleeing monotony, animals crave it, and what they most dread is to see it end. For it ends, only to be replaced by fear, the cause of all activity. Inaction is divine; yet it is against inaction that man has rebelled. Man alone, in nature, is incapable of enduring monotony, man alone wants something to happen at all costs—something, anything…. Thereby he shows himself unworthy of his ancestor: the need for novelty is the characteristic of an alienated gorilla.

— Emil Cioran

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There is, indeed, nothing more vexing than to be, for instance, wealthy, of good family, decent-looking, not badly educated, fairly intelligent, even good-natured, and at the same time, to have no talents, no peculiarities, not even a single quirk, not one idea of one’s own, to be decidedly “like everyone else.” You have wealth, but it’s not that of a Rothschild; your family is honorable, but had never distinguished itself in any way; your appearance is seemly, but expresses very little; you have a decent education, but have no idea what use to make of it; you have brains, but no ideas of your own; you have a heart, but no magnanimity; and so on and so forth, in every respect. There is an extraordinary multitude of such people in the world, far more, indeed, than it appears; they may, like all other people, be divided into two major classes: some of limited intelligence, the others “much cleverer.” The first are happier.

— Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Idiot

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