Classic · Excerpt · German Culture · German Literature · Non-fiction · Paraphrase · Passage · Philosophy · Quote · Religion

Friedrich Nietzsche

I love the one whose soul is overfull so that he forgets himself, and all things are in him; I love the one who has a free spirit and a free heart: thus his head is only the entrails of his heart, but his heart drives him to go under. — Friedrich Nietzsche, Thus Spoke… Continue reading Friedrich Nietzsche

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Algerian-French Culture · Classic · Contemporary · Excerpt · French Literature · Literary Critisism · Non-fiction · Paraphrase · Passage · Philosophy · Psychology · Quote · Theory

Jacques Derrida

I would like to write you so simply, so simply, so simply. Without having anything ever catch the eye, excepting yours alone, … so that above all the language remains self-evidently secret, as if it were being invented at every step, and as if it were burning immediately. — Jacques Derrida, The Post Card: From… Continue reading Jacques Derrida

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British Culture · Classic · English Literature · Excerpt · Fiction · Occult · Paraphrase · Passage · Philosophy · Quote · Thelema

Aleister Crowley

I’ve often thought that there isn’t any “I” at all; that we are simply the means of expression of something else; that when we think we are ourselves, we are simply the victims of a delusion. ― Aleister Crowley, Diary of a Drug Fiend. Weiser Books June 1977 (first published 1922)

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Aphorism · Author Unknown · Epigram · Musing · Paraphrase · Passage · Philosophy · Quote · Unknown Author · Unknown Source · Unsourced · Wittism

Unknown

There are two types of waiting. There’s the the waiting you do for something you know is coming, sooner or later—like waiting for the 6:28 train, or the school bus, or a party where a certain handsome boy might be. And then there’s the waiting for something you don’t know is coming. You don’t even… Continue reading Unknown

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Classic · Danish Culture · Danish Literature · Excerpt · Non-fiction · Paraphrase · Passage · Philosophy · Quote · Religion

Søren Kierkegaard

My grief is my castle, which like an eagle’s nest is built high up on the mountain peaks among the clouds; nothing can storm it. From it I fly down into reality to seize my prey; but i do not remain down there, I bring it home with me, and this prey is a picture… Continue reading Søren Kierkegaard

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