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Feanor

“And it may be that Eru has set a greater fire in me than thou knowest.”

-Feanor to Manwe’s herald

Peter Pan

You would see her on her knees, I expect, lingering humorously over some of your contents, wondering where on earth you had picked this thing up, making discoveries sweet and not so sweet, pressing this to her cheek as if it were as nice as a kitten, and hurriedly stowing that out of sight. When you wake in the morning, the naughtiness and evil passions with which you went to bed have been folded up small and placed at the bottom of your mind and on the top, beautifully aired, are spread out your prettier thoughts, ready for you to put on.

“Well, I hate to break it to you, but there is no big lie. There is no system. The universe is indifferent.”

-Mad Men

Who We Be

The silence, the dark, the mind, so fragile
The wish, that the streets, would have took you, when they had you
The days, the months, the years, despair
One night on my knees, here it comes, the prayer

-DMX, Who We Be

Nietzsche

“My brother, if you are fortunate, then you will have only one virtue and no more…”

 

For the rest of that day, for the time it took me to call everyone I know, for the three hours and 45 minutes it took me to eat my 11-course meal, I was the lights on the top of the Chrysler Building. I was the smile on the Statue of Liberty. I was New York. I was money.

Enlightened

“I love you but I don’t have to become you.”

Exposé

“…every philosophic system sets out to conceal, first of all, the philosopher’s own temperament…”

“Of whatever temperament a professional philosopher is, he tries when philosophizing to sink the fact of his temperament. Temperament is no conventionally recognized reason, so he urges impersonal reasons only for his conclusions.

Yet in the forum he can make no claim, on the bare ground of his temperament, to superior discernment or authority. There arises thus a certain insincerity in our philosophic discussions: the potentest of all our premises is never mentioned.”

“The world of concrete personal experiences to which the street belongs is multitudinous beyond imagination, tangled, muddy, painful and perplexed. The world to which your philosophy-professor introduces you is simple, clean and noble. The contradictions of real life are absent from it. Its architecture is classic. Principles of reason trace its outlines, logical necessities cement its parts. Purity and dignity are what it most expresses. It is a kind of marble temple shining on a hill.

In point of fact it is far less an account of this actual world than a clear addition built upon it, a classic sanctuary in which the rationalist fancy may take refuge from the intolerably confused and gothic character which mere facts present. It is no EXPLANATION of our concrete universe, it is another thing altogether, a substitute for it, a remedy, a way of escape.”

“The actual universe is a thing wide open, but rationalism makes systems, and systems must be closed.”

“How can principles and general views ever be anything but abstract outlines? Was Cologne cathedral built without an architect’s plan on paper? Is refinement in itself an abomination? Is concrete rudeness the only thing that’s true?”

“Our work over the details of his system is indeed what gives us our resultant impression of the philosopher, but it is on the resultant impression itself that we react.”

William James, Lecture I. The Present Dilemma in Philosophy

“Happy men are free men.”

“You’ve obeyed me in the name of ideals. You’ll go on obeying me without ideals.”

“Wynand thought that what he felt was curiosity–if curiosity could be blown into the dimensions of a thing from the abyss…”

“…the face of an artist who knew that overdoing was defeat and achieved the supreme of offensiveness by remaining normal.”

“My masters, the anonymous, the unselected. They gave me a penthouse, an office, a yacht. To them, to any one of them who wished, for the sum of three cents, I sold Howard Roark.”

“Most people are other people. Their thoughts are someone else’s opinions, their lives a mimicry, their passions a quotation.”

-Oscar Wilde