"… “Thinking, meditating, imagining,” he also wrote me, “are not anomalous acts - they are the normal respiration of the intelligence. To glorify the occasional exercise of that function, to treasure beyond price ancient and foreign thoughts, to recall with incredulous awe what some doctor universalis thought is to confess our own languor, or our own barbarie. Every man should be capable of all ideas, and I believe that in the future he shall be.” …"

Jorge Luis Borges. Pierre Menard, Author of the Quixote.
@2 years ago with 40 notes
#Borges 

"… Dream delivers us to dream, and there is no end to illusion. Life is a train of moods like a string of beads, and as we pass through them, they prove to be many-colored lenses which paint the world in their own hue, and each shows only what lies in its focus… . We animate what we can, and we see only what we animate… ."

Ralph Waldo Emerson. Experience.
@2 years ago with 77 notes
#Emerson 

"… It is a rugged road, more so than it seems, to follow a pace so rambling and uncertain, as that of the soul; to penetrate the dark profundities of its intricate internal windings; to choose and lay hold of so many little nimble motions; ‘tis a new and extraordinary undertaking, and that withdraws us from the common and most recommended employments of the world… ."

Virginia Woolf. Montaigne. 
@2 years ago with 40 notes
#Virginia Woolf #Michel de Montaigne 

"… Identity does not make consciousness possible; it is only separation, detachment, and agonizing confrontation through opposition that produce consciousness and insight… ."

Carl Gustav Jung. The Psychology Of The Child Archetype. The Archetypes And The Collective Unconscious.
@2 years ago with 120 notes
#Carl Gustav Jung 

"… The personality is seldom, in the beginning, what it will be later on. For this reason the possibility of enlarging it exists, at least during the first half of life. The enlargement may be effected through an accretion from without, by new vital contents finding their way into the personality from outside and being assimilated. In this way a considerable increase of personality may be experienced. We therefore tend to assume that this increase comes only from without, thus justifying the prejudice that one becomes a personality by stuffing into oneself as much as possible from outside. But the more assiduously we follow this recipe, and the more stubbornly we believe that all increase has to come from without, the greater becomes our inner poverty. Therefore, if some great idea takes hold of us from outside, we must understand that it takes hold of us only because something in us responds to it and goes out to meet it. Richness of mind consists in mental receptivity, not in the accumulation of possessions. What comes to us from outside, and, for that matter, everything that rises up from within, can only be made our own if we are capable of an inner amplitude equal to that of the incoming content. Real increase of personality means consciousness of an enlargement that flows from inner sources. Without psychic depth we can never be adequately related to the magnitude of our object. It has therefore been said quite truly that a man grows with the greatness of his task. But he must have within himself the capacity to grow; otherwise even the most difficult task is of no benefit to him More likely he will be shattered by it… ."

Carl Gustav Jung. Concerning Rebirth. The Archetypes And The Collective Unconscious. 
@2 years ago with 76 notes
#Carl Gustav Jung 

"… We usually endeavour to acquire a single deportment of feeling, a single attitude of mind towards all the events and situations of life — that above all is what is called being philosophically minded. But for the enrichment of knowledge it may be of more value not to reduce oneself to uniformity in this way, but to listen instead to the gentle voice of each of life’s different situations; these will suggest the attitude of mind appropriate to them. Through thus ceasing to treat oneself as a single rigid and unchanging individuum one takes an intelligent interest in the life and being of many others… ."

Friedrich Nietzsche. Being philosophically minded. 618. Man Alone With Himself. Human, All Too Human. 
@2 years ago with 42 notes
#Nietzsche 

"… a book is more than a verbal structure, or a series of verbal structures; a book is the dialogue with the reader, and the peculiar accent he gives to its voice, and the changing and durable images it leaves in his memory. That dialogue is infinite…"

Jorge Luis Borges. For Bernard Shaw. Other Inquisitions.
@2 years ago with 48 notes
#Borges 

"

… The task consists in integrating the unconscious, in bringing together “conscious” and “unconscious.” I have called this the individuation process. At this stage the mother-symbol no longer connects back to the beginning, but points towards the unconscious as the creative matrix of the future. “Entry into the mother” then means establishing a relationship between the ego and the unconscious. Nietzsche probably means something of the kind in his poem:

Why hast thou enticed thyself
Into the old serpent’s Paradise?
Why hast thou stolen
Into thyself, thyself?

A sick man now,
Sick of the serpent’s poison;
A captive now
Who drew the hardest lot:
Bent double
Working in thine own pit,
Encaved within thyself
Burrowing into thyself,
Heavy-handed,
Stiff,
A corpse—
Piled with a hundred burdens,
Loaded to death with thyself,
A knower!
Self-knower!
The wise Zarathustra!
You sought the heaviest burden
And found yourself.

Sunk in his own depths, he is like one buried in the earth; a dead man who has crawled back into the mother; a Kaineus “piled with a hundred burdens” and pressed down to death, groaning beneath the intolerable weight of his own self and his own destiny. Who does not think here of Mithras, who, in the Taurophoria, took his bull (or, as the Egyptian hymn says, “the bull of his mother”), namely his love for his Mater Natura, on his back, and with this heaviest burden set forth on the via dolorosa of the Transitus? The way of this passion leads to the cave in which the bull is sacrificed. So, too, Christ has to bear the Cross to the place of sacrifice, where, according to the Christian version, the Lamb was slain in the form of the god, and was then laid to earth in the sepulchre. The cross, or whatever other heavy burden the hero carries, is himself, or rather the self, his wholeness, which is both God and animal — not merely the empirical man, but the totality of his being, which is rooted in his animal nature and reaches out beyond the merely human towards the divine. His wholeness implies a tremendous tension of opposites paradoxically at one with themselves, as in the cross, their most perfect symbol.


What seems like a poetic figure of speech in Nietzsche is really an age-old myth. It is as if the poet could still sense, beneath the words of contemporary speech and in the images that crowd in upon his imagination, the ghostly presence of bygone spiritual worlds, and possessed the capacity to make them come alive again. As Gerhart Hauptmann says: “Poetry is the art of letting the primordial word resound through the common word.” … .

"

Carl Gustav Jung. The Battle For Deliverance From The Mother. Symbols of Transformation: Two. 
@2 years ago with 29 notes
#Carl Gustav Jung #Nietzsche #Gerhart Hauptmann 

"… You see craftsmen but no human beings, thinkers but no human beings, priests but no human beings, masters and slaves, young people and adults, but no human beings — is it not like a battlefield, where hands and arms and limbs lie everywhere dismembered, while the life-blood flows from them into the sand? …"

Friedrich Hölderlin. Hyperion. 
@2 years ago with 77 notes
#Hölderlin 

"… You live like this, sheltered, in a delicate world, and you believe you are living. Then you read a book… or you take a trip… and you discover that you are not living, that you are hibernating. The symptoms of hibernating are easily detectable: first, restlessness. The second symptom (when hibernating becomes dangerous and might degenerate into death): absence of pleasure. That is all. It appears like an innocuous illness. Monotony, boredom, death. Millions live like this (or die like this) without knowing it. They work in offices. They drive a car. They picnic with their families. They raise children. And then some shock treatment takes place, a person, a book, a song, and it awakens them and saves them from death. Some never awaken… ."

Anaïs Nin. The Diary of Anaïs Nin. Vol. 1: 1931-1934
@2 years ago with 176 notes
#Anaïs Nin 

"… We keep hearing about the revolution around us all the time: the revolution, the revolution, the revolution. Revolution doesn’t have to do with smashing something; it has to do with bringing something forth. If you spend all your time thinking about that which you are attacking, then you are negatively bound to it. You have to find the zeal in yourself and bring that out. That is what’s given to you — one life to live. Marx teaches us to blame the society for our frailties; Freud teaches us to blame our parents for our frailties; astrology teaches us to blame the universe. The only place to look for blame is within: you didn’t have the guts to bring up your full moon and live the life that was your potential… ."

Joseph Campbell. Pathways to Bliss.
@2 years ago with 82 notes
#Joseph Campbell 

"… He who really wants to get to know something new (be it a person, an event, a book) does well to entertain it with all possible love and to avert his eyes quickly from everything in it he finds inimical, repellent, false, indeed to banish it from mind: so that, for example, he allows the author of a book the longest start and then, like one watching a race, desires with beating heart that he may reach his goal. For with this procedure one penetrates to the heart of the new thing, to the point that actually moves it: and precisely this is what is meant by getting to know it. If one has got this far, reason can afterwards make its reservations; that over-estimation, that temporary suspension of the critical pendulum, was only an artifice for luring forth the soul of a thing… ."

Friedrich Nietzsche. Love as artifice. 621. Man Alone With Himself. Human, All Too Human. 
@2 years ago with 55 notes
#Nietzsche 

"… Henceforth alone and sorely mistrustful of myself, I thus, and not without a sullen wrathfulness, took sides against myself and for everything painful and difficult precisely for me: — thus I again found my way to that courageous pessimism that is the antithesis of all romantic mendacity, and also, as it seems to me today, the way to ‘myself’, to my task. That concealed and imperious something for which we for long have no name until it finally proves to be our task — this tyrant in us takes a terrible retribution for every attempt we make to avoid or elude it, for every premature decision, for every association on equal terms with those with whom we do not belong, for every activity, however respectable, if it distracts us from our chief undertaking, even indeed for every virtue that would like to shield us from the severity of our own most personal responsibility. Illness is the answer every time we begin to doubt our right to our task — every time we begin to make things easier for ourselves. Strange and at the same time terrible! It is our alleviations for which we have to atone the most! And if we afterwards want to return to health, we have no choice: we have to burden ourselves more heavily than we have ever been burdened before … ."

Friedrich Nietzsche. 4. Preface. Volume II. Human, All Too Human. 
@2 years ago with 36 notes
#Nietzsche 

"

Every single thing becomes a word
in a language that Someone or Something, night and day,
writes down in a never-ending scribble,
which is the history of the world, embracing

Rome, Carthage, you, me, everyone,
my life, which I do not understand, this anguish
of being enigma, accident, and puzzle,
and all the discordant languages of Babel.

Behind each name lies that which has no name.
Today I feel its nameless shadow tremble
in the blue clarity of the compass needle,

whose rule extends as far as the far seas,
something like a clock glimpsed in a dream
or a bird that stirs suddenly in its sleep.

"

Jorge Luis Borges. Compass.
@2 years ago with 261 notes
#Borges 

"… ‘So long as one always lays the blame on others one still belongs to the mob, when one always assumes responsibility oneself one is on the path of wisdom; but the wise man blames no one, neither himself nor others.’ — Who says this? — Epictetus, eighteen hundred years ago. — It was heard but forgotten. — No, it was not heard and forgotten: not everything gets forgotten. But there was lacking an ear for it, the ear of Epictetus. — So did he say it into his own ear? — Yes, that is how it is: wisdom is the whispering of the solitary to himself in the crowded marketplace… ."

Friedrich Nietzsche. The missing ear. 386. Assorted Opinions And Maxims. Human, All Too Human. 
@2 years ago with 59 notes
#Nietzsche #Epictetus