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June 1, 2013

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When you die, perhaps you will cease to exist. Or perhaps you’ll be reincarnated, or your soul will go to heaven, or to hell. But in none of these cases will “you” be placed in a casket and lowered into the ground; you will never find yourself in the grave. What all these conceptions have in common is that the dead cannot be buried — they are either elsewhere, or nowhere.

Socrates says, “I cannot make Crito believe that I am the same Socrates who have been talking and conducting the argument; he fancies that I am the other Socrates whom he will soon see, a dead body — and he asks, How shall he bury me? … I shall not remain, but go away and depart; and then he will suffer less at my death, and not be grieved when he sees my body being burned or buried. I would not have him sorrow at my hard lot, or say at the burial, Thus we lay out Socrates, or, Thus we follow him to the grave or bury him. … Be of good cheer, then, my dear Crito, and say that you are burying my body only, and do with that whatever is usual, and what you think best.”

Quoted from “Can the Dead Really Be Buried?” – Palle Yourgrau (Midwest Studies in Philosophy 24:1, 46-68)

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May 18, 2013

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Ere Zarathustra had been an hour on his way in the mountains and forests, he saw all at once a strange procession. Right on the path which he was about to descend came two kings walking, bedecked with crowns and purple girdles, and variegated like flamingoes: they drove before them a laden ass.

“What do these kings want in my domain?” said Zarathustra in astonishment to his heart, and hid himself hastily behind a thicket.

When however the kings approached to him, he said half-aloud, like one speaking only to himself:

“Strange! Strange! How doth this harmonise? Two kings do I see–and only one ass!”

Thereupon the two kings made a halt; they smiled and looked towards the spot whence the voice proceeded, and afterwards looked into each other’s faces.

“Such things do we also think among ourselves,” said the king on the right, “but we do not utter them.”

The king on the left, however, shrugged his shoulders and answered:

“That may perhaps be a goat-herd. Or an anchorite who hath lived too long among rocks and trees. For no society at all spoileth also good manners.”

“Good manners?” replied angrily and bitterly the other king: “what then do we run out of the way of? Is it not ‘good manners’? Our ‘good society’?

Better, verily, to live among anchorites and goat-herds, than with our gilded, false, over-rouged populace–though it call itself ‘good society.’

–Though it call itself ‘nobility.’

But there all is false and foul, above all the blood — thanks to old evil diseases and worse curers.

The best and dearest to me at present is still a sound peasant, coarse, artful, obstinate and enduring: that is at present the noblest type.

The peasant is at present the best; and the peasant type should be master! But it is the kingdom of the populace–I no longer allow anything to be imposed upon me.

The populace, however–that meaneth, hodgepodge.

Populace-hodgepodge: therein is everything mixed with everything, saint and swindler, gentleman and Jew, and every beast out of Noah’s ark.”

Quoted from ‘Thus Spake Zarathustra – Fourth and Last Part. 63. LXIII. Talk With The Kings.’ – Friedrich Nietzsche (1883)

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May 17, 2013

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well do i know that i am mortal, a creature of one day

but if my mind follows the winding paths of the stars

then my feet no longer rest on earth, but standing by

Zeus himself i take my fill of ambrosia, the divine dish

Quoted from ‘Almagest’ – Ptolemy (Ca. 150 AD)

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May 13, 2013

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Look At September Look At October

Lithograph: ‘Look At September Look At October’ (Westerham Press, Kent, England/Roland 48 four-colour offset machine; Royal Cornwall Cover 160 Book White – Peter Schmidt (1976)

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May 13, 2013

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nay chide me not

that i can find no heart

to greet with you

the coming of the Spring

winter has been so long

aye so long and cold

that the feeble warmth of Springtime

cannot melt my frozen heart

i have no ears

for the singing of birds

i hear but the sighing

of an icy wind

mine eyes have grown

too dim to see

the young green grass

and flowering tree

i can but feel the chilly gloom

of long dark shadows

alas my life has grown too still

to wake at the call of Spring

Quoted from ‘Dream Songs’ – Louise  Dickerson-Watkins (1923)

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May 12, 2013

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And the fool said to me:

‘Seek in order not to find. Always. For you are much too tormented to abandon the quest. . .But, you see, we shall at least have found something.’

– ‘What?’ said I.

– ‘Lassistude.’

What more shall I say? I am sick of so much seeking. And this evening is too much like other evenings. All of what I have said, I ought to have kept silent about. But my pride is not great enough for that. I am sad from having been stripped so bare. But I love my falsehoods and my expectations too much not to shout them out with fervor.

Where shall I turn when I know one thing only: my mystical soul burning to give itself with enthusiasm, with faith, with fervor.

Quoted from ‘Intuitions’ – Albert Camus (1932)

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May 11, 2013

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and

even until the last day

the final consummation of the world

there is also the Essence of Spirits subsisting

concealed in manner, concealed in the elements

these are the stars thereof

so Nicander testifies in his Antidotes.