Lay hold of to-day’s task, and you will not need to depend so much upon to-morrow’s. While we are postponing, life speeds by.”
— Seneca, Moral Letters to Lucilius: Volume 1
Related: I know I’m in love when _____.
“In the painting she stares out unflinchingly against a backdrop of luxuriant foliage. In the centre of her forehead, just above the two dark bushy eyebrows, is a perfectly circular round hole, within which is a rural landscape dominated by a skull and crossbones.
The face is neither frightened nor filled with despair; it is calm. She seems to say that if death and suffering can be accepted as a natural part of life then fulfilment is possible. It is one of her many self-portraits that relentlessly lay bare her pre-occupations with death and her own physical fragility.
It demonstrates her fearlessness in confronting what lies at the centre of existence: death.
By putting death in the place of the third eye, the chakra, she makes it the source of all wisdom.”
“For me, writing is really just learning about things that interest me, and then trying to convince you to find them as interesting as I do.”
— Susan Orlean (via Austen Kleon)
“Hey, insular cortex, that does disgusting food… ‘Moral disgust’? I don’t know, that vaguely sounds sort of like that. Hey, somebody give me some duct tape. I’m going to strap moral disgust onto gustatory disgust.”
We mistake feeling disgusted by something as being a good litmus test for deciding what’s right and wrong. And what we know is somebody’s “disgusting, this is simply wrong” is somebody else’s “perfectly normal loving lifestyle”. And it’s tempting if your stomach is in a total uproar, you know, “if it makes you puke you must rebuke”.
Related: I feel loved when _____.
“Why are potential overlaps between recreational and therapeutic often discredited? Can’t recreation be therapeutic in some cases too?”
— Erica Avey, Question
On our earth we can only love with suffering and through suffering. We cannot love otherwise, and we know of no other sort of love. I want suffering in order to love.”
— Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Dream of a Ridiculous Man