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Largeletters

Largeletters

Alone
Jan 21, 2020
643
“The desire to commit suicide, however, has at its base a belief that life cannot or will not improve. Although that may be the case in some instances, it is not true in all instances. Death, however, rules out hope in all instances. We do not have any data indicating that people who are dead lead better lives.”
-Marsha M. Linehan
 
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Alwaysbadtime

Alwaysbadtime

Enlightened
Jun 28, 2021
1,175
“The desire to commit suicide, however, has at its base a belief that life cannot or will not improve. Although that may be the case in some instances, it is not true in all instances. Death, however, rules out hope in all instances. We do not have any data indicating that people who are dead lead better lives.”
-Marsha M. Linehan
I don't understand the last sentence. What is she saying?
 
Alwaysbadtime

Alwaysbadtime

Enlightened
Jun 28, 2021
1,175
“Chronic anxiety is a state more undesirable than any other, and we will try almost any maneuver to eliminate it. Modern man is living in anxious anticipation of destruction. Such anxiety can be easily eliminated by self-destruction. As a German saying puts it: 'Better an end with terror than a terror without end.”
― Robert E. Neale, The Art of Dying
 
AtMostOkay

AtMostOkay

Screw your courage to the sticking place.
Jun 29, 2021
763
I can't light no more of your darkness. All my pictures seem to fade to black and white. I'm growing tired, and time stands still before me. I'm frozen here, on the ladder of my life. - Bernie Taupin
 
LostSoul1609

LostSoul1609

Experienced
Mar 9, 2021
247
From Wisława Szymbroska, one of my favorite poets:
-The room of a suicide
I'll bet you think the room was empty. Wrong. There were three chairs with sturdy backs. A lamp, good for fighting the dark. A desk, and on the desk a wallet, some newspapers. A carefree Buddha and a worried Christ. Seven lucky elephants, a notebook in a drawer. You think our addresses weren't in it?

No books, no pictures, no records, you guess? Wrong. A comforting trumpet poised in black hands. Saskia and her cordial little flower. Joy the spark of gods. Odysseus stretched on the shelf in life-giving sleep after the labors of Book Five. The moralists with the golden syllables of their names inscribed on finely tanned spines. Next to them, the politicians braced their backs.

No way out? But what about the door? No prospects? The window had other views. His glasses lay on the windowsill. And one fly buzzed - that is, was still alive.

You think at least the note must tell us something. But what if I say there was no note - and he had so many friends, but all of us fit neatly inside the empty envelope propped up against a cup.
 
deflationary

deflationary

Fussy exister. Living in the epilogue
Mar 11, 2020
527
Emil Cioran has some good ones:

"The same feeling of not belonging, of futility, wherever I go: I pretend interest in what matters nothing to me, I bestir myself mechanically or out of charity, without ever being caught up, without ever being somewhere. What attracts me is elsewhere, and I don’t know where that elsewhere is."

"What I know at sixty, I knew as well at twenty. Forty years of a long, a superfluous, labor of verification."

"I get along quite well with someone only when he is at his lowest point and has neither the desire nor the strength to restore his habitual illusions."

"Better to be an animal than a man, an insect than an animal, a plant than an insect, and so on.

Salvation? Whatever diminishes the kingdom of consciousness and compromises its supremacy."

"I have always struggled, with the sole intention of ceasing to struggle. Result: zero."

"I have never taken myself for a being. A non-citizen, a marginal type, a nothing who exists only by the excess, by the superabundance of his nothingness."

"As far as I am concerned, I resign from humanity. I no longer want to be, nor can still be, a man. What should I do? Work for a social and political system, make a girl miserable? Hunt for weaknesses in philosophical systems, fight for moral and esthetic ideals? It’s all too little. I renounce my humanity even though I may find myself alone. But am I not already alone in this world from which I no longer expect anything?"




As does Thomas Ligotti:

"For the rest of the earth’s organisms, existence is relatively uncomplicated. Their lives are about three things: survival, reproduction, death—and nothing else. But we know too much to content ourselves with surviving, reproducing, dying—and nothing else. We know we are alive and know we will die. We also know we will suffer during our lives before suffering—slowly or quickly—as we draw near to death. This is the knowledge we “enjoy” as the most intelligent organisms to gush from the womb of nature. And being so, we feel shortchanged if there is nothing else for us than to survive, reproduce, and die. We want there to be more to it than that, or to think there is. This is the tragedy: Consciousness has forced us into the paradoxical position of striving to be unself-conscious of what we are—hunks of spoiling flesh on disintegrating bones."

"Within the hierarchy of fabrications that compose our lives—families, countries, gods—the self incontestably ranks highest. Just below the self is the family, which has proven itself more durable than national or ethnic affiliations, with these in turn outranking god-figures for their staying power. So any progress toward the salvation of humankind will probably begin from the bottom—when our gods have been devalued to the status of refrigerator magnets or lawn ornaments. Following the death rattle of deities, it would appear that nations or ethnic communities are next in line for the boneyard. Only after fealty to countries, gods, and families has been shucked off can we even think about coming to grips with the least endangered of fabrications—the self."

"How much nonsense can we take in our lives? And is there any way we can escape it? No, there is not. We are doomed to all kinds of nonsense: the pain nonsense, the nightmare nonsense, the sweat and slave nonsense, and many other shapes and sizes of insufferable nonsense. It is brought to us on a plate, and we must eat it up or face the death nonsense."

"So they trust in the deity of the Old Testament, an incontinent dotard who soiled Himself and the universe with his corruption, a low-budget divinity passing itself off as the genuine article. (Ask the Gnostics.) They trust in Jesus Christ, a historical cipher stitched together like Frankenstein's monster out of parts robbed from the graves of messiahs dead and buried - a savior on a stick. They trust in the virgin-pimping Allah and his Drum Major Mohammed, a prophet-come-lately who pioneered a new genus of humbuggery for an emerging market of believers that was not being adequately served by existing religious products. They trust in anything that authenticates their importance as persons, tribes, societies, and particularly as a species that will endure in this world and perhaps in an afterworld that may be uncertain in its reality and unclear in its layout, but which states their craving for values "not of this earth" - that depressing, meaningless place their consciousness must sidestep every day."

"Also worthy of mention is a clique among the suicidal for whom the meaning of their act is a darker thing. Frustrated as perpetrators of an all-inclusive extermination, they would kill themselves only because killing it all is closed off to them. They hate having been delivered into a world only to be told, by and by, “This way to the abattoir, Ladies and Gentlemen.” They despise the conspiracy of Lies for Life almost as much as they despise themselves for being a party to it. If they could unmake the world by pushing a button, they would do so without a second thought. There is no satisfaction in a lonesome suicide. The phenomenon of “suicide euphoria” aside, there is only fear, bitterness, or depression beforehand, then the troublesomeness of the method, and nothingness afterward. But to push that button, to depopulate this earth and arrest its rotation as well—what satisfaction, as of a job prettily done. This would be for the good of all, for even those who know nothing about the conspiracy against the human race are among its injured parties."

“Compassion for human hurt, a humble sense of our impermanence, an absolute valuation of justice—all of our so-called virtues only trouble us and serve to bolster, not assuage, horror. In addition, these qualities are our least vital, the least in line with life. More often than not, they stand in the way of one’s rise in the welter of this world, which found its pace long ago and has not deviated from it since. The putative affirmations of life—each of them based on the propaganda of Tomorrow: reproduction, revolution in its widest sense, piety in any form you can name—are only affirmations of our desires. And, in fact, these affirmations affirm nothing but our penchant for self-torment, our mania to preserve a demented innocence in the face of gruesome facts.

By means of supernatural horror we may evade, if momentarily, the horrific reprisals of affirmation. Every one of us, having been stolen from nonexistence, opens his eyes on the world and looks down the road at a few convulsions and a final obliteration. What a weird scenario. So why affirm anything, why make a pathetic virtue of a terrible necessity? We are destined to a fool’s fate that deserves to be mocked. And since there is no one else around to do the mocking, we will take on the job. So let us indulge in cruel pleasures against ourselves and our pretensions, let us delight in the Cosmic Macabre. At least we may send up a few bitter laughs into the cobwebbed corners of this crusty old universe.”
 
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BottomlessPit

BottomlessPit

Staring at the edge
Apr 28, 2021
427
Emil Cioran has some good ones:

"The same feeling of not belonging, of futility, wherever I go: I pretend interest in what matters nothing to me, I bestir myself mechanically or out of charity, without ever being caught up, without ever being somewhere. What attracts me is elsewhere, and I don’t know where that elsewhere is."

"What I know at sixty, I knew as well at twenty. Forty years of a long, a superfluous, labor of verification."

"I get along quite well with someone only when he is at his lowest point and has neither the desire nor the strength to restore his habitual illusions."

"Better to be an animal than a man, an insect than an animal, a plant than an insect, and so on.

Salvation? Whatever diminishes the kingdom of consciousness and compromises its supremacy."

"I have always struggled, with the sole intention of ceasing to struggle. Result: zero."

"I have never taken myself for a being. A non-citizen, a marginal type, a nothing who exists only by the excess, by the superabundance of his nothingness."

"As far as I am concerned, I resign from humanity. I no longer want to be, nor can still be, a man. What should I do? Work for a social and political system, make a girl miserable? Hunt for weaknesses in philosophical systems, fight for moral and esthetic ideals? It’s all too little. I renounce my humanity even though I may find myself alone. But am I not already alone in this world from which I no longer expect anything?"
I've been meaning to check out some of Ciorans works, but I never know where to start. Do you happen to have any suggestions?
 
deflationary

deflationary

Fussy exister. Living in the epilogue
Mar 11, 2020
527
I've been meaning to check out some of Ciorans works, but I never know where to start. Do you happen to have any suggestions?
Hmm I'm just finishing up A Short History of Decay, haven't read any of his other works. Tbh I'd say it's wildly inconsistent, some of the stuff doesn't land at all for me, some is absolutely great. The good stuff is sufficiently good enough though that I'll probably check out some more of his stuff. Thinking I'll go with either On the Heights of Despair or The Trouble with Being Born next, simply because of the cool titles. :)

I'm not totally sure about this but I imagine that all of his books are pretty much in the same aphoristic style covering a variety of topics so maybe it doesn't really matter all that much where you jump in.
 
BottomlessPit

BottomlessPit

Staring at the edge
Apr 28, 2021
427
Hmm I'm just finishing up A Short History of Decay, haven't read any of his other works. Tbh I'd say it's wildly inconsistent, some of the stuff doesn't land at all for me, some is absolutely great. The good stuff is sufficiently good enough though that I'll probably check out some more of his stuff. Thinking I'll go with either On the Heights of Despair or The Trouble with Being Born next, simply because of the cool titles. :)

I'm not totally sure about this but I imagine that all of his books are pretty much in the same aphoristic style covering a variety of topics so maybe it doesn't really matter all that much where you jump in.
Ah alright, thanks for your input. I'll probably just go with whatever is most popular then, but only after I've finally finished Ligotti's Conspiracy against the human race. Which might take a while lol
 
BottomlessPit

BottomlessPit

Staring at the edge
Apr 28, 2021
427
"Best of all for mortal beings is never to have been born at all
Nor ever to have set eyes on the bright light of the sun
But, since he is born, a man should make utmost haste through the gates of Death
And then repose, the earth piled into a mound round himself."

--Theognis of Megara
 
motel rooms

motel rooms

So sodomitic.
Apr 13, 2021
5,906
I was screaming into the canyon
At the moment of my death
The echo that I created
Outlasted my last breath
My voice made an avalanche
And buried a man I never knew
And when he died his widowed bride
Met your daddy and they made you

I have only one thing to do and that's
Be the wave that I am and then
Sink back into the ocean

-- F. Apple
 
not-2-b-the-answer

not-2-b-the-answer

Illuminated
Mar 23, 2018
3,064
It's never enough, no it's never enough
No matter what I say
It's never enough, no it's never enough
I'll never be what you want me to be
I'm done!
In the end we're all just chalk lines on the concrete
Drawn only to be washed away

Five Finger Death Punch
:heart::heart::heart::heart::heart::heart::heart::heart:
 
R

rioghbhardain

Member
Dec 23, 2020
8
The door stands open for every eventuality, and we thus have no cause for worry.
—Epictetus.

Many short and easy roads to freedom lie open on all sides. Let us thank god that no one is able to be kept in life.
—Seneca.

The eternal law did nothing better than give us one entrance into life, but many exits.
—Seneca.

We are in the power of no one, when death is in our power.
—Seneca.

... if I learn that my suffering will be permanent, I will exit.
—Seneca.

What is freedom, you ask? To be a slave to no situation, no necessity, to no chance events; to force fortune onto an even playing field.
—Seneca.

On that day when I know that I am more powerful, fortune will have no power. Shall I put up with her, when death is under my control?
—Seneca.

There is nothing after death and death itself is nothing; only the finish line of this swift existential race. Lay down your greed for a reward, your fears of punishment. When greedy time and gnashing chaos devour us, we just end.
—Seneca.

Shall I reflect that Fortune has all power over one who lives, rather than reflect that she has no power over one who knows how to die?
—Seneca.

Of all things ’tis best for earthly men never to have been born,
Nor to see the beams of the dazzling sun;
Yet, if born, to hastily pass across the gates of Hades
And to lie beneath a heap of earth.
—Theognis.

If it be no crime, both prudence and courage should engage us to rid ourselves at once of existence when it becomes a burden. it is the only way that we can then be useful to society, by setting an example which, if imitated, would preserve to everyone his chance for happiness in life, and would effectually free him from all danger of misery.
—David Hume.