Forwarded from The Nietzschean Dawn
Escapism springs from weakness.
The botched collapse before their internal tension even approaches the conditions for greatness.
The botched collapse before their internal tension even approaches the conditions for greatness.
Forwarded from 𝓐𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓵𝓬𝔂𝓷𝓷 🇺🇲🇦🇺🇳🇿🇨🇦🇬🇧
In Old English, a mead hall was called a 𝘮𝘦𝘥𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘥. A place to laugh and sing of heroes of old, in the warmth of a roaring fire whose light dances along the tapestries.
Forwarded from The Nietzschean Dawn
"Examine the lives of the best and the most fruitful people and peoples and ask yourselves whether a tree which is supposed to grow to a proud height could do without bad weather and storms: whether misfortune and external resistance, whether any kinds of hatred, jealousy, stubbornness, mistrust, hardness, greed and violence do not belong to the favourable conditions without which any great growth even of virtue is scarcely possible?"
Nietzsche
Nietzsche
Forwarded from Diary of an Underground Ronin
“No man lives, can live, without having some object in view, and making efforts to attain that object. But when object there is none, and hope is entirely fled, anguish often turns a man into a monster.”
— Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The House of the Dead
— Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The House of the Dead
“I would rather be ashes than dust!
I would rather that my spark should burn out in a brilliant blaze than it should be stifled by dry-rot.
I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in magnificent glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet.
The function of man is to live, not to exist.
I shall not waste my days trying to prolong them.
I shall use my time.”
- Jack London
I would rather that my spark should burn out in a brilliant blaze than it should be stifled by dry-rot.
I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in magnificent glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet.
The function of man is to live, not to exist.
I shall not waste my days trying to prolong them.
I shall use my time.”
- Jack London
“The common law existed while the Anglo-Saxons were yet pagans, at a time when they had never yet heard the name of Christ pronounced or knew that such a character existed.”
- Thomas Jefferson
- Thomas Jefferson
Forwarded from Diary of an Underground Ronin
“I wish men would begin by loving themselves: everything else follows from that. To be sure, as soon as one does this one is seen as the object of the rabble's resentment: for this is what they do not forgive: 'What? A man who loves himself?”
― Nietzsche, The Will to Power
― Nietzsche, The Will to Power
Forwarded from Diary of an Underground Ronin
“I teach No to all that makes weak—that exhausts. I teach the Yes to all that strengthens! I teach Yes to that which concentrates strength! I teach Yes to that which exalts pride!”
― Nietzsche, The Will to Power
― Nietzsche, The Will to Power
Forwarded from Diary of an Underground Ronin
You were born to do great things. You were born to establish the reality which you, yourself, have desired so secretly in the small hours of the night. So intense is the light you harbor for the world, so consequential is the effect of your passion, the world trembles at the very groan your chest makes; the very same which struggles to contain the inferno called your soul. A cascade of Will hemmed in, warhorses penned in tight and in ever-closing stables, each seeking the very moment of opportunity to cascade out into the world and form it in your vital design.
Destiny hemmed in with 'No', with a pernicious design to lessen you and stifle your mission. All your life you have been told, been taught, been smeared with this excretion named 'No'.
Yet, in the cool breeze of a summer night, you hear the echo of a word, a world, you long forgot. A whisper carried on such soft breezes that when it's spark floats and lands, like a feather on your soul, you languidly expected the same nothing, the same No, you have eternally known all your life.
And yet...
"Yes!"
Destiny hemmed in with 'No', with a pernicious design to lessen you and stifle your mission. All your life you have been told, been taught, been smeared with this excretion named 'No'.
Yet, in the cool breeze of a summer night, you hear the echo of a word, a world, you long forgot. A whisper carried on such soft breezes that when it's spark floats and lands, like a feather on your soul, you languidly expected the same nothing, the same No, you have eternally known all your life.
And yet...
"Yes!"