Original Quotes

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There are no heroes and villains just sad puppets that play out a wretched performance of randomness and blind accident. Entropy is our path and oblivion our destination. We are the whims of Chance and a mad indifferent universe; and if you could spare a smoke, maybe a buck or two, I'd be grateful, I'm almost out of gas.
 
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"He never knew why he was unhappy because he had no idea who he was. Aware of the inner monologue, he believed his own motivations were well-known."
 
"This will to live. Infinite, boring, purposeless and extremely insufferable."

"The conveyor belt of existence: From nothingness to nothingness."
 
Every road leads to lasting pain and loss and ultimate terror.

Some just get there a lot faster than others, and with fewer distractions along the way.
 
"Literature wrestles with taboo or it is a venture for weaklings."
 
"She firmly believed he had gone straight to hell; the fiery place of unimaginable pain and suffering, and not just some abstract separation from God. I admired such conviction but when I pressed her to expound on the many torments he would endure , she shuddered and said that such things frightened her."
 
"What is it, what nameless, inscrutable, unearthly thing is it; what cozening, hidden lord and master, and cruel, remorseless emperor commands me; that against all natural lovings and longings, I so keep pushing, and crowding, and jamming myself on all the time; recklessly making me ready to do what in my own proper, natural heart, I durst not so much as dare? Is Ahab, Ahab? Is it I, God, or who, that lifts this arm? But if the great sun move not of himself; but is as an errand-boy in heaven; nor one single star can revolve, but by some invisible power; how then can this one small heart beat; this one small brain think thoughts; unless God does that beating, does that thinking, does that living, and not I. By heaven, man, we are turned round and round in this world, like yonder windlass, and Fate is the handspike.-- Herman Melville, Moby-Dick
 
"You asked me why I became a recluse, a hermit, out here in the woods when I had the world at my feet all those years ago. I couldn't answer you well then because my mind was still cloudy. It was for a multitude of reasons. The best way I can put it is that I'd rather get killed by a bear, or a snake, or a pack of wolves than another person. Chaos and chance apply the same here just as much as out there. I can go out tomorrow to the creek and just happen on a mother bear with her cubs, getting mauled to death for my trouble. But the bear doesn't know any better; it doesn't decide to break a moral principle and kill me for my money or my car. I can hold that knowledge and accept it out here. I hope that answers your question."
 
I don't know what is worse. Not knowing you are a slave or knowing but having no desire to change. Pleasure is no longer pleasurable, as you know from this point on. To resist is indefinitely more thrilling. Try to resist sugar, carbs, and the Internet. Modern day dead nooses.
 
"I've tried to go through life avoiding the filling of forms as much as possible. Ideally, the only form I'd ever want to present is the birth certificate, as it signifies that I was indeed born, and am, contrary to personal wishes, still here. I very much identity with Kafka in viewing bureaucracy as something approaching a real hell."
 
DarkView said:
"I've tried to go through life avoiding the filling of forms as much as possible. Ideally, the only form I'd ever want to present is the birth certificate, as it signifies that I was indeed born, and am, contrary to personal wishes, still here. I very much identity with Kafka in viewing bureaucracy as something approaching a real hell."
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You remind me of the time when I lose a similar piece of paper. Not my birth certificate but my citizenship certificate. I spent weeks looking for it everywhere to no avail. Since I needed it for some paperwork, I decided to reapply for it. Cost me more than half a grand and three months of waiting. It was very painful.
 
"What did he fear? It was not fear or dread. It was a nothing he knew too well. It was all a nothing and a man was nothing too. It was only that and light was all it needed and a certain cleanness and order. Some lived in it and never felt it but he knew it all was nada y pues nada y nada y pues nada."--Ernest Hemingway, A Clean, Well-Lighted Place.
 
"The most pitiful lie is that of struggle--that our struggling constitutes something much more valuable than that of the poor wildebeest in its trek across the savannah, or some lowly fish whose being devoured in its coral palace could happen at any moment for no greater reason than it is a fish."
 
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“I don't drink water. Fish fuck in it.”

― W.C. Fields

(wow, there is no swearing on this forum!)
 
"I am reminded of drowning rats when walking down the street; the elephantine sounds and minute terpsichorean maneuvers; the rote actions and mad dash for the same venal prize; the general malefic chorus given up to mute what even the most stupefied mind feels as the inevitable tide rising with all the weight of an ocean, and the most intimate yet disavowed knowledge held in the human heart: for every conceivable end, we are alone."
 
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