“People were created to be loved. Things were created to be used. The reason why the world is in chaos is because things are being loved and people are being used.”
— Emmanuel Torres, Shapes of Silence
(via books-n-quotes)
23/m/WA/Secular Humanist / h8r / Porn Enthusiast
To excell at self-punishment. To remain in the grip of it. Such waste and disgrace. And I want the wind to stop–it has to stop.
My soul is cold, I feel abandoned. Everything that is near me is cold, everything, even lonely and abandoned things.
I have the feeling that I am not quite alive – that my body is walking about with a bit of my brain inside it, and nothing else.
The very words you’re using to describe your
“pain” reveal to me that you do not only fail to understand it, but also, worse, you are shamelessly manipulating it. You’re trying to make it appear as something else other than what it is. That’s the sickest part.
That need to talk, talk, talk; I mistrust it, it repulses me. Most people are equivalent to noise for me. Outer noise. Contaminating noise. See, they feel like noise which is perfectly unrelated with intensity. My inner system can accept noise associated only with powerful living, not weak and stupidly persistent surviving.
I am not doing anything. I am waiting for something, and I don’t know what.
I am not happy nor I am greatly unhappy; I have a sad, wistful feeling which I can’t quite explain. I want you. If you desert me now I’m lost. You must believe in me no matter how difficult it may seem sometimes.
In the first book of my Discworld series, published more than twenty-six years ago, I introduced Death as a character; there was nothing particularly new about this — death has featured in art and literature since medieval times, and for centuries we have had a fascination with the Grim Reaper.
But the Death of the Discworld is a little more unusual. He has become popular — after all, as he patiently explains, it is not he who kills. Guns and knives and starvation kill; Death turns up afterwards, to reassure the puzzled arrivals as they begin their journey.
He is kind; after all, he is an angel. And he is fascinated with us, with the way in which we make our little lives so complicated, and our strivings. So am I.
Within a year or two, I started to get letters about Death. They came from people in hospices, and from their relatives and from bereaved individuals, and from young children in leukaemia wards, and the parents of boys who had crashed their motorbikes.
I recall one letter where the writer said the books were of great help to his mother when she was in a hospice. Frequently, the bereaved asked to be allowed to quote some part of the Discworld books in a memorial service.
They all tried to say, in some way, “thank you,” and until I got used to it, the arrival of one of these letters would move me sufficiently to give up writing for the day.
“People were created to be loved. Things were created to be used. The reason why the world is in chaos is because things are being loved and people are being used.”
— Emmanuel Torres, Shapes of Silence
(via books-n-quotes)
“The Socratic teacher turns his students away from himself and back onto themselves; he hides in paradoxes, makes himself inaccessible. The intimate relationship between student and teacher here is not one of submission, but of a contest for truth.”
— Karl Jaspers, The Idea of the University
