Mahima

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Donna Tartt
“It's a very Greek idea, and a very profound one. Beauty is terror. Whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before it. And what could be more terrifying and beautiful, to souls like the Greeks or our own, than to lose control completely? To throw off the chains of being for an instant, to shatter the accident of our mortal selves? Euripides speaks of the Maenads: head thrown I back, throat to the stars, "more like deer than human being." To be absolutely free! One is quite capable, of course, of working out these destructive passions in more vulgar and less efficient ways. But how glorious to release them in a single burst! To sing, to scream, to dance barefoot in the woods in the dead of night, with no more awareness of mortality than an animal! These are powerful mysteries. The bellowing of bulls. Springs of honey bubbling from the ground. If we are strong enough in our souls we can rip away the veil and look that naked, terrible beauty right in the face; let God consume us, devour us, unstring our bones. Then spit us out reborn.”
Donna Tartt, The Secret History

Jalal ad-Din Muhammad ar-Rumi
“Somewhere beyond right and wrong, there is a garden. I will meet you there.”
Rumi

Donna Tartt
“I am nothing in my soul if not obsessive.”
Donna Tartt, The Secret History

Albert Camus
“I love life - that’s my real weakness. I love it so much that I am incapable of imagining what is not life.”
Albert Camus, The Fall

Albert Camus
“God is not needed to create guilt or to punish. Our fellow men suffice, aided by ourselves. You were speaking of the Last Judgement. Allow me to laugh respectfully. I shall wait for it resolutely, for I have known what is worse, the judgement of men. For them, no extenuating circumstances; even the good intention is ascribed to crime. Have you at least heard of the spitting cell, which a nation recently thought up to prove itself the greatest on earth? A walled-up box in which the prisoner can stand without moving. The solid door that locks him in the cement shell stops at chin level. Hence only his face is visible, and every passing jailer spits copiously on it. The prisoner, wedged into his cell, cannot wipe his face, though he is allowed, it is true. to close his eyes. Well, that, mon cher, is a human invention. They didn't need God for that little masterpiece.”
Albert Camus, The Fall

year in books
Jenna
758 books | 18 friends

Julia P...
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Caroline W
363 books | 13 friends

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Syd
196 books | 16 friends

Aykurt
137 books | 21 friends

Joy &#x...
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ayla
131 books | 18 friends

Jordan ...
876 books | 20 friends

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