The world only makes sense if you force it to

Thoughts, musings, stuff

[dailynietzsche]

“Corruption is merely a nasty word for the autumn of a people.”

—The Gay Science, §23 (excerpt).

[havenharm]

[havenharm]

Truth.

[havenharm]

[1000bestbooks]

There is no order in the world around us, we must adapt ourselves to the requirements of chaos instead.

Breakfast of Champions by Kurt Vonnegut, 1973 (via 1000bestbooks)

[havenharm]

These are the pale deaths which men miscall their lives: for all the scents of green things growing, each breath is but an exhalation of the grave. Bodies jerk like puppet corpses, and hell walks laughing.

Stephen R. Donaldson, Lord Foul’s Bane

[curiouspsychonaut]

He shook his head and sighed. “You have to believe that there’s something better, that there’s some point to this whole thing”.

“Why”, she asked.

He gave a sad smile, “Because there isn’t”.

[havenharm]

The feels! The feeeeeels!

[ethanstas]

There’s only one way to hurt a man who’s lost everything. Give him back something broken.

Thomas Covenant (via ethanstas)

[havenharm]

Decimus Junius Juvenalis

Juvenal lived from c. AD 55 - 138 and actually coined the term ‘satire’. One of his more memorable quotes is:

“Fate would have no divinity if we were wise: it is we who make her a goddess and place her in heaven.” (The Sixteen Satires)

Would Juvenal forgive me if I altered it to the following:

“There would be no gods if we were wise: it is we who create the divine and place them in heaven.” (Havenharm)

[havenharm]

Relatable? 🤔

[havenharm]

One of the great thinkers and speakers of our time.

[havenharm]

Anemoia - https://www.dictionaryofobscuresorrows.com/post/105778238455/anemoia-n-nostalgia-for-a-time-youve-never

[corpsepost]

where did i go?

[havenharm]

[havenharm]

How?

How do we go on knowing that, ultimately, nothing matters?

[havenharm]

Something shuffles. Out of sight, something sucks the stale air and hisses. Gliding with ancient grace - unwilling to retreat as his brothers did - eyes gleaming, untouched by love or joy or sorrow. Breath hot with the taste of fallen foes. The stench of dead things, damned things.. surely the fiercest survivor, the purest warrior.. Glaring, hating.. claiming me as his own.

Frank Miller