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Ethan I. Solomon
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Ethan I. Solomon
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"Not a David Brin fan. This seems to be another example of that rearing its head, though I will try to finish it at some point." — Dec 25, 2013 04:25PM
"Not a David Brin fan. This seems to be another example of that rearing its head, though I will try to finish it at some point." — Dec 25, 2013 04:25PM
progress:
(page 542 of 709)
"The best of the Hyperion books so far, but what is that really saying..." — Nov 09, 2013 05:43PM
"The best of the Hyperion books so far, but what is that really saying..." — Nov 09, 2013 05:43PM
Ethan I. Solomon
is currently reading
progress:
(page 26 of 465)
"This book will apparently get finished when I have absolutely s**t else to read." — Oct 22, 2013 01:00PM
"This book will apparently get finished when I have absolutely s**t else to read." — Oct 22, 2013 01:00PM
“Insult, like many such feelings, is experienced in the soul of the person addressed; it is not something that can be granted or withheld by the person doing the addressing.”
― Surface Detail
― Surface Detail
“From solitude in the womb, we emerge into solitude among our Fellows, and return again to solitude within the Grave. We pass our lives in the attempt to mitigate that solitude. But Propinquity is never fusion. The most populous City is but an agglomeration of wildernesses. We exchange Words, but exchange them from prison to prison, and without hope that they will signify to others what they mean to ourselves. We marry, and there are two solitudes in the house instead of one, We beget children, and there are many solitudes. We reiterate the act of love; but again propinquity is never fusion. The most intimate contact is inly of Surfaces and we couple, as I have seen the condemned Prisoners at Newgate coupling with their trulls, between the bars of our cages. Pleasure cannot be shared; like pain, it can only be experienced or inflicted, and when we give pleasures to our lovers or Bestow charity upon the Needy, we do so, not to gratify the object of our Benevolence, but only ourselves. For the truth is that we are kind for the same reason the reason as we are cruel, in order that we may enhance the sense of our own power; and this we are for ever trying to do, despite the fact that by doing it we cause ourselves to feel more solitary then ever. The reality of solitude is the same in all men, there being no mitigation of it, except in Forgetfulness, Stupidity, or Illusion; but a mans sense of Solitude is proportionate to the sense and fact of his power. In any set of circumstances, the more Power we have, the more intensely do we feel our solitude. I have enjoyed much power in my life.- The Fifth Earl, in Aldous Huxley’s After Many A Summer Dies The Swan”
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