Jean Callahan

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Dream of Fair to ...
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Thomas Ligotti
“This is the great lesson the depressive learns: Nothing in the world is inherently compelling. Whatever may be really “out there” cannot project itself as an affective experience. It is all a vacuous affair with only a chemical prestige. Nothing is either good or bad, desirable or undesirable, or anything else except that it is made so by laboratories inside us producing the emotions on which we live. And to live on our emotions is to live arbitrarily, inaccurately—imparting meaning to what has none of its own. Yet what other way is there to live? Without the ever-clanking machinery of emotion, everything would come to a standstill. There would be nothing to do, nowhere to go, nothing to be, and no one to know. The alternatives are clear: to live falsely as pawns of affect, or to live factually as depressives, or as individuals who know what is known to the depressive. How advantageous that we are not coerced into choosing one or the other, neither choice being excellent. One look at human existence is proof enough that our species will not be released from the stranglehold of emotionalism that anchors it to hallucinations. That may be no way to live, but to opt for depression would be to opt out of existence as we consciously know it.”
Thomas Ligotti, The Conspiracy Against the Human Race

Fyodor Dostoevsky
“Suffering is part and parcel of extensive intelligence and a feeling heart.”
Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Crime and Punishment

Janet Frame
“Life is hell, but at least there are prizes. Or so one thought.”
Janet Frame, The Reservoir: Stories and Sketches
tags: life

David Markson
“You can learn more by going to the opera than you ever can by reading Emerson. Like that there are two sexes.”
David Markson

Anaïs Nin
“The struggle to emerge out of the past, clean of memories; the inadequacy of our hearts to cut life into separate and final portions; the pain of this constant ambivalence and interrelation of emotions; the hunger for frontiers against which we might learn as upon closed doors before we proceed forward; the struggle against diffusion, new beginnings, against finality in acts without finality or end, in our cursedly repercussive being..”
Anaïs Nin, The Diary of Anaïs Nin, Vol. 1: 1931-1934

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