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Anonymous said: how many people follow you now? glad to see philosophy is appreciated

Around 2100. Agreed! :]

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Autumn Sun - Edward Cucuel

Autumn Sun - Edward Cucuel

(Source: fleurdulys)

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"Intellectual despair results in neither weakness nor dreams, but in violence. It is only a matter of knowing how to give vent to one’s rage; whether one only wants to wander like madmen around prisons, or whether one wants to overturn them."

— Georges Bataille

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"Beauty is desired in order that it may be befouled; not for its own sake, but for the joy brought by the certainty of profaining it."

— Georges Bataille, Erotism: Death and Sensuality

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Male Nude Sawing, William Etty

Male Nude Sawing, William Etty

(Source: toinelikesart, via portionsofeternity)

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"

On a relatively unfrequented, stony beach there is a great rock which juts out over the sea. After a climb, an ascent from one jagged foothold to another, a natural shelf is reached where one person can stretch at length, and stare down into the tide rising and falling below, or beyond to the bay, where sails catch light, then shadow, then light, as they tack far out near the horizon. The sun has burned these rocks, and the great continuous ebb and flow of the tide has crumbled the boulders, battered them, worn them down to the smooth sun-scalded stones on the beach which rattle and shift underfoot as one walks over them. A serene sense of the slow inevitability of the gradual changes in the earth’s crust comes over me; a consuming love, not of a god, but of the clean unbroken sense that the rocks, which are nameless, the waves which are nameless, the ragged grass, which is nameless, are all defined momentarily through the consciousness of the being who observes them. With the sun burning into rock and flesh, and the wind ruffling grass and hair, there is an awareness that the blind immense unconscious impersonal and neutral forces will endure, and that the fragile, miraculously knit organism which interprets them, endows them with meaning, will move about for a little, then falter, fail, and decompose at last into the anonomous [sic] soil, voiceless, faceless, without identity.

From this experience I emerged whole and clean, bitten to the bone by sun, washed pure by the icy sharpness of salt water, dried and bleached to the smooth tranquillity that comes from dwelling among primal things.

From this experience also, a faith arises to carry back to a human world of small lusts and deceitful pettiness. A faith, naïve and child like perhaps, born as it is from the infinite simplicity of nature. It is a feeling that no matter what the ideas or conduct of others, there is a unique rightness and beauty to life which can be shared in openness, in wind and sunlight, with a fellow human being who believes in the same basic principles.

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— Sylvia Plath, Diaries

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Anonymous said: How to I fill this endless void inside of me?

Oreo cookies and drugs

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"The anarchist in his purest form is he, whose memory goes back the farthest: to pre-historical, even pre-mythical times; and who believes, that man at that time fulfilled his true purpose … In this sense the anarchist is the Ur-conservative, who traces the health and the disease of society back to the root."

— Ernst Jünger

(Source: ridedatigah, via hyperboreanvoyager)

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Götz von Berlichingen, Lovis Corinth, 1917.

Götz von Berlichingen, Lovis Corinth, 1917.

(Source: abystle, via gravewithoutaname)

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"Socrates himself said, ‘One thing only I know, and this is that I know nothing.’
Remember this statement, because it is an admission that is rare, even among philosophers. Moreover, it can be so dangerous to say in public that it can cost you your life. The most subversive people are those who ask questions. Giving answers is not nearly as threatening. Any one question can be more explosive than a thousand answers."

— Jostein Gaarder: Sophie’s World

(Source: fuckyeahphilosophy)

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O Egypt, Egypt, of thy religion nothing will remain but an empty tale, which thine own children in time to come will not believe; nothing will be left but graven words, and only the stones will tell of thy piety. And in that day men will be weary of life, and they will cease to think the universe worthy of reverent wonder and of worship. And so religion… men will think it a burden, and will come to scorn it. They will no longer love this world around us, this incomparable work of God, this glorious structure which he has built, this sum of good made up of things of many diverse forms, this instrument whereby the will of God operates in that which be has made, ungrudgingly favouring man’s welfare, this combination and accumulation of all the manifold things that can call forth the veneration, praise, and love of the beholder.

Darkness will be preferred to light, and death will be thought more profitable than life; no one will raise his eyes to heaven; the pious will be deemed insane, and the impious wise; the madman will be thought a brave man, and the wicked will be esteemed as good.

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— Hermes Trismegistus, Asclepius 

(Source: hyperboreanvoyager)

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"Life consists of rare, isolated moments of the greatest significance and of innumerably many intervals, during which at best the silhouettes of those moments hover about us. Love, springtime, every beautiful melody, mountains, the moon, the sea — all these speak completely to the heart but once, if in fact they ever do get a chance to speak completely. For many men do not have those moments at all, and are themselves intervals and intermissions in the symphony of real life."

— Friedrich Nietzsche, Human, All Too Human

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"The unfed mind devours itself."

— Gore Vidal

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"Why can’t I try on different lives, like dresses, to see which fits best and is more becoming?"

— Sylvia Plath, Journals

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Gustave Courbet, The Source (Detail), 1862

Gustave Courbet, The Source (Detail), 1862

(Source: greuze)