I shan’t eat carrion — I shall cross the river beyond these wastelands, and I may drown, but I shan’t eat carrion, for I have seen in the blood-sky onlookers observing.
There is an odd mode of being in which inspiration becomes visual.
Some aspects of reality only become available at a particular juncture of nodal and celestial time-scapes.
One has, after subjective experience, come to the conclusion of the sensorial nature of cognition — a thought held in hands.
It is a great shame that there is little to no attention paid to natural history.
The truth of the premise is often decided with an eye to who espoused it — this is the torrid state of affairs.
The good-evil person is pulled and pushed in opposite directions and, in the end, rendered invisible — good and evil here are not ontological categories, nor are they, in any strict sense, realist moral values; rather, they refer to the subject’s perceptual categories of the good-evil, within which a simple failure to act, or even a mundane act such as plucking a flower, may be conceptualized as evil, whilst something like the disappearance of enmity from the heart may, in some amorphous sense, be regarded as good.
On the worst of days, the sky itself turned purple as testament — the lawyers in their world of mirrors debated the merits and demerits of the sentence.
It brings one no comfort to delineate the cracks in one’s spirit.
A sentence may be syntactically organized to result in meaninglessness, but may remain meaningful in other ways; meaning, syntax cannot determine the full meaning-making scope of a sentence.
Natural history has the capacity to remind man he is man.
The king Mamun’s greatness was undone by the shadow of Alexander and Ardashir — the shadow of Zeus and Zarathustra — what comes from the wells of fratricide is harm.
What if a winter were to set its endless roots in the plains of the Indus? That would be a blessing; a revolution can arise just from changes in the climes.
What is to be said of a man who has dreamt three hundred and sixty-five days of the year? There is life in all hours of the day.
The king wants to know whether his reign is at an end, so he calls for an observatory to be constructed, so that the stars may be read for his destiny.
To seek to perfect the world is noble; to believe in the possible perfection of the world is folly — whatever is believed to be a means of inducing the quality of perfection in any particular being has the incidental effect of creating, necessarily through a function of that supposed perfection, further harm, and hence, further imperfection.
Often men do not take instruction from those they deem inferior to them, and herein lies a great folly, for all have something to teach, if only one’s mind is receptive enough.
I have seen a bird.
Life in society imbues man with a certain incuriosity about nature; it is entirely solipsistic.
There is no need for spiritual panic in any sphere of human activity.
One should renew one’s vows to God every day through internal speech — prayer may perform such a function superficially, but internal assent is more proper.
Positivism would have much to offer the field of metaphysics, if one understood both well.
A new republicanism shall be birthed only by the effervescence of the lights cast by the One, whereby the individual shall become properly individual.
A cockroach cannot hurt a man, and, conversely, a man should not hurt a cockroach. Herein, harm is maximally defined: to kill a being on the basis of aesthetic preference is unreasonable and, ergo, anti-human.
The definitions of pessimism and optimism need to be reimagined.
If colonialism was decimating, freedom was sedating.