On Human Beauty:
Humanity’s beauty lies in its complexity; it is astonishing to realize that each person harbors an inner cosmos as intricate as our own. Their fears and desires mirror ours in unfamiliar yet parallel ways. Vulnerability becomes the bridge where naked souls touch, even if only fleetingly.
On Authenticity
Authenticity is no virtue in itself but the byproduct of a deep trust in one’s freedom to exist—unapologetically and apart from the cacophony of the herd. Cognitive dissonance—a fracture between belief and action, however buried—festers, birthing neurosis and reinforcing the very chains it seeks to escape. In the endless effort to quiet this misalignment, little room remains to truly experience and express the internal or external. What should be a vibrant human becomes a hollow automation, acting, thinking, speaking only to soothe the fracture within.
On the Unfiltered
A single twitch can unveil truths that entire volumes fail to capture. Words and expressions, shaped by filters and restraint, dull the raw honesty that the body cannot conceal. Just as the hand recoils instinctively from fire, so too do the eyes, the mouth, and the body respond unguardedly to the weight of experience, betraying the truths we dare not speak.
On Labels
Labels, always confining, inherently restrictive—are neither moral nor immoral but a necessary artifice of a pattern-seeking, often oblivious and terrified mammal desperate to tame the chaos of existence. It is the product of a collective choice, a tacit agreement to carve meaning from the incomprehensible. But the most corrosive labels are those we inscribe upon ourselves, quietly and relentlessly (e.g “I can’t”). Little do we realize that every word we utter carries a weight, a vibration, sending unseen ripples through the unconscious. These ripples coalesce, influencing every belief, every action, every fiber of what we imagine ourselves to be—until, eventually, the label no longer describes but defines, dictating the boundaries of who we are allowed to become.
On Irony:
How paradoxical is the delight suffused in pessimistic, somber prose. Life’s portryal life as abject, indifferent, even cruel, yet his unflinching honesty offers the solace of understanding—a rare balm in a world enamored with euphemisms.
On Decisions:
Decisions often resemble a gambler’s wager—a precarious roll of the dice across an endless sea of possibilities. While some choices emerge as educated guesses, most are leaps of faith where potential converges into singularity. Eminem’s clarity: "You only get one shot," resonates as more than lyrical brilliance.
On the Origin
has long divided body and mind, obscuring the truth: the mind arises from the body, shaped by and for it. Every sense not only receives but creates, intuition emerging where this false split dissolves. Actualization is not rising above nature but returning to it—reuniting mind and body with the source that birthed them. True liberation lies in reclaiming this wholeness, where the self rediscovers its place within the rhythms of the natural world—realigning with the duality of universal order!
On the Universality of Individuality:
In the silent theater of our minds, each of us plays the protagonist in a narrative of irreplaceable uniqueness. Yet, the irony lies in this singularity being the most universal of scripts, a thread binding the collective destiny of humankind.
On Warmongers and Euphemisms:
Warmongers, particularly those ensconced in power, embody a grotesque amalgam of psychopathy and sadism. Yet, the more insidious danger lies in their euphemisms, transforming hellish realities into sterile phrases like "gaining tactical advantage." Consider the 230 million lives extinguished in the 20th century—what ideology or “-ism” justified such carnage?
On Loyalty and Radical Individualism:
At the core of long-term human connection lies an unyielding desire for loyalty—the bedrock of self-understanding and expression. Radical individualism, contrary to its promises, unravels the individual, eroding the very sanity it claims to protect.
On Evolutionary Psychology and Society:
Evolutionary psychology, in its fundamentals, must inform societal structures. To defy our intrinsic wiring is to court collective disservice. Family and profound connections are not mere cultural artifacts but evolutionary imperatives for thriving.
On Collectivism and Individuality:
Excessive collectivism is as pernicious as unchecked individualism. A delicate equilibrium is essential—only through preserving individuality can one meaningfully contribute to the collective.
On Self-Care as a Moral Imperative:
To care for oneself is not indulgence but a moral obligation. Life’s battles demand fortitude, and nurturing what we love requires an unwavering pursuit of mental and physical strength—a noble and unrelenting endeavor.
On Postmodernism and Science:
Postmodernism, in its essence, negates science, elevating subjective relativism above empirical objectivity. Cynical at its core, it undermines the very foundation that doubled our lifespan and propelled human progress.
On Right and Wrong:
Right and wrong, though nuanced, exist universally. To deny this and equate all moral principles is perilous, yet dogmatism is an even graver threat. Healthy skepticism, embodying honesty, remains the highest pursuit.
On Religion and Arrogance
Religion cloaks arrogance in humility, extinguishing the curiosity that every child endowed with. By sheer chance of birth, it exalts its god as supreme, centering the cosmos on its sedated followers. Subsumed by the herd, the individual becomes a hollow echo, parroting dogmas indistinguishable from a machine. To claim knowledge of the unknowable—the origin and end of existence—is the height of folly! What’s more pathetic than a priest, imam, or rabbi, cloaked in false authority, feeding their flocks the opiate of certainty? Charlatans they are emboldening the masses with comforting myths, leaving them estranged from themselves and the world.
On Melancholy:
The unutterable dwells in the melancholic heart, a torment so intricate it defies comprehension. It is a solitary walk, an ache that sears yet enriches, the burden of a soul too full for simple solace.
On Pornography and Evolution:
Pornography, in its pervasive and imposed form, wages war on humanity. It robs men of their instinctual vitality and women of their intrinsic dignity via objectification and commodification, severing ties to evolutionary imperatives of connection.
On Dostoevsky:
Dostoevsky crafts an ocean of understanding where the tormented find solace and redemption. His tales transform loneliness into a vibrant ethos, intertwining despair with the possibility of transcendence.
On Business as Combat:
Business is a theater of perpetual combat, as ruthless as it is grand. Beneath the veneer of suits and formalities lies a battlefield where morality is the ultimate test of nobility.
On Truth and Courage:
The pursuit of truth demands not only intellect but raw bravery. It is a venture into uncertainty, where the light of understanding must be wrested from the shadows of fear.
On Nostalgia:
Nostalgia often distorts the present with a yearning for what was never truly ours. It is not the people we long for, but the vibrant, unburdened selves we buried under modernity’s trivialities.
On Death and Denial:
Our denial of death feeds superstition, the offspring of dread. To fear the inevitable is to squander greatness, hastening our deserved decline through cowardice.
On Life as Art:
A life devoid of its rich contrasts—light and dark, profound and mundane—is reduced to a hollow caricature, a “kitsch.” True artistry lies in crafting one’s masterpiece, not copying another’s design.
On Writing:
To write is to bridge the abyss of solitude. Each word is a plea for light to pierce the darkness, a fleeting reminder that understanding is possible and shared existence real.
On Sexuality as Power:
The redirection of sexual energy—its sublimation into a force of creation—transcends mere survival. Harnessed, it becomes an invincible drive, a testament to life’s inexhaustible vigor.
On Power and Self-Overcoming:
The pursuit of power, defined by external markers like wealth or status, is hollow. True nobility lies in self-overcoming, the relentless refinement of one’s vices into virtues—a power untainted and unalloyed.
On Darkness and Light:
In solitude, with darkness as a companion, the soul discerns its essence—the interplay of light, shadow, and in-betweens. It is here that the profound and the superficial converge, guiding us to unadulterated joy.
On Trust:
Trust, like the foundation of a towering edifice, is essential yet fragile. Once ruptured, its reconstruction is an eternal impossibility.
On Suffering:
Self-imposed suffering, like a bitter elixir, cleanses the soul. Yet, its dosage must be tempered, for unchecked, it eclipses reason, leading one perilously close to destruction.
On Embracing the Abyss:
There is no abyss to fear when you are already within it. The terror of its pull fades once embraced, transforming cowardice into a resolute acceptance of all its darkness, malevolence, and potential for growth.
On Age and Wisdom
Age is like a classroom; the time spent within it matters little compared to the value it offers. Years in a dull, stifling environment—surrounded by uninspired minds and led by a misguided teacher—yield less than a single month in a vibrant, enriching one. Consider the revolutionaries of history who shaped our present; age contributed little to the seismic ripples they set in motion. Old age, then, should serve as an amplifier of experience, not merely a measure of wisdom.
On Fear of Death
The fear of death, inherent to the human experience and as lucid as day yet as inevitable as night, lingers in the shadows of the unconscious. It whispers through the clandestine manifestations of neurosis, promising its host that mortality is reserved for 'the other.' The masses, seeking solace, bury this fear in superstition, leaving its release possible only through direct confrontation. Enlightenment is obsolete, then, without embracing that any moment could be the last—one leaves, entrusting their footprint to continue the being's ripples.
On Artists and Philosophers
Artists and philosophers appear as dichotomous figures: the former, expressive and unrestrained, propelled by emotion, rhythm, and the unstructured, striving to transcend the rational; the latter, champions of logic and reason, worshippers of order and precision, mathematical in their pursuit. Yet, this dichotomy is but two faces of the same coin—escapism. Their endeavors, however lofty, are realized only through the interplay of chaotic order and ordered chaos. Intellect without emotion is lifeless; emotion without intellect is blind. Both, in isolation, betray what it means to be human. In their desperate attempt to transcend, they risk annihilation—not ascent. A fusion is that which is lofty; the height of the mountain.
It is only through returning, through mirroring the chaotic harmony of nature, that the artist and the philosopher touch their desired heights. Herein lies the paradox: the intentionality of unintentionality, the precision of letting go. This is not just their pursuit—it is the art of living.
On Relationships and Advice
Relationships rooted in practicality or escapism—born of a reluctant return to the herd—inevitably breed resentment, both towards oneself and one’s partner. This resentment festers into subtle forms of cognitive dissonance, chief among them the compulsion to offer unsolicited advice, especially to the young. The advice often urges conformity, for the mere glimpse of freedom in youthful eyes becomes a stark and painful reminder of the chasm between what one could have been and what one has settled for. The wider the chasm, the more insistent the advice becomes.
On Beauty and Harmony
The essence of life seems to be beauty, all in perfect harmony. From the smallest subatomic particle to the boundless universe, everything is interconnected, incomprehensible so, each minuscule part sustaining itself while relying on the infinite other. Ah, the fine tuning! This is the dance of existence: serving oneself while serving the whole. For us humans, love is the ultimate truth—loving nature, one another, every creature, even the simplest rock exists for the other. Born of stardust, infinitely improbable—yet here we are, every single bit, perfectly connected. We, from a technical perspective, appeared to have been, at one point, all one. Neat. Aweof the universe whispers.
On the Universality of Expression
It seems the natural proclivity of a being—one endowed with consciousness and the awareness of it—is not merely to uncover its essence, a fundamental expression of human destiny, born of the primordial stardust. Rather, it is to articulate this essence, to give it form, as a means of reuniting not only with oneself but also with the rhythms of nature and the presence of another. This desperate yearning, this essential endeavor, seeks to rediscover what was once whole yet now lies veiled behind the ephemeral layers of what is seen, spoken, or understood.
On Intensity of Expression
The fervor with which one approaches—indeed, almost consumes—artistic pursuits often mirrors the extent of one’s estrangement (whether by choice or circumstance) from soulful endeavors. Upon returning to such pursuits, one discovers not only profounder depths to explore but also loftier peaks to ascend. In these moments, the embrace of alacrity becomes infused with a rare intensity, imbuing the creative process with a transcendent quality, a sublime flavor that elevates art beyond its ordinary bounds.
On Simplicity of Truth
When the curtains fall, and night darkens, as the birds go silent, surrendering to sleep, one must concede this simple truth: no human being is ultimately deserving of pain or suffering—however fictional or fleeting the world's justifications for such things may be. Every human being, without exception, is deserving of love and sympathy. Why? Because every human, no matter how morally abject or reprehensible they may seem, was once a child.
Think of the most vilified person you can imagine, someone whose name conjures visions of evil. Even they were once a child: a being thrust into this world, gasping for air, weeping at the overwhelming flood of new sensations, utterly innocent and uncontrollable in their origins. This simple fact alone should move us: every human, born as a child, is intrinsically deserving of love.
Ah, but here comes the counterargument: "People make choices! They are responsible for their actions!" And yet, I say, every choice is but a link in a chain, forged by forces beyond one's control. Consider the parents one is born to, the environment one grows in, the genetics one inherits, the historical moment into which one is thrust—these are not choices. They are circumstances. And so, while humans may be held accountable for their actions, we must temper judgment with the recognition of the frailty of the human condition.
This realization—that we are all shaped by forces larger than ourselves—calls us to one moral imperative: to master ourselves, to strive toward goodness, and to become better. To what end? The pursuit of truth, which inevitably leads to sympathy, for truth reveals our shared vulnerability. This sympathy becomes not merely an ethical ideal but an essential human imperative: to be good to oneself and others, understanding that all anyone seeks is to be recognized, to be understood. And in that understanding lies sublimity.
To care, then, is to act within the sphere of one's control: to order one’s environment, to cultivate inner harmony, and to extend kindness to the world. From this recognition—this deep, abiding awareness of our interconnectedness—something profound grows. What grows is not just for the self, but for the collective good, for the universal. For at our core, we are one—born of the same mystery, turning together toward the same truth.
On Emotional Masquerades
Emotionality—the invisible puppeteer of human reason—shapes our worldview far more profoundly than intellect ever could. A skipped meal or subtle hormonal shift reveals how swiftly optimism dissolves into bitterness, exposing a cynic whose only remaining passion is revenge. Beneath layers of refinement, we remain perpetually frightened infants, disguised by illusions of sophistication, forever scrambling to preserve our delicate and self-serving hierarchies.
On Self-Perception:
Can one truly be seen, or even feel the warmth of recognition, if they remain blind to their own essence? Self-awareness is not merely a mirror but the lens through a which we permit others to truly see us.