Whoever has become used to feeling like a hermit, whoever sees with a cold gaze through all the social and comradely connections and notices the tiny threads which tie people together, threads so strong that a gust of air breaks them; whoever sees in addition that it is not the flame of genius which makes him a hermit, that flame from whose circle of light all things flee away, because it makes them appear so like a dance of death, so mad, so spindly, and so inane; whoever is, on the contrary, lonely because of a caprice of nature, because of a curiously brewed mixture of wishes, gifts, and endeavors of the will, he knows what an “incomprehensibly lofty marvel” a friend is; and if he is an idolater, he must first and foremost erect an altar to the “unknown god who created the friend”.
Friedrich Nietzsche  (via sisyphean-revolt)

(Source: silencemadenietzschecry, via sisyphean-revolt)

[I]n Nietzsche, individualism is accompanied by a lively critique of the notions of “self” and “I.” For Nietzsche there is a kind of dissolution of the self. The reaction against oppressive structures is no longer done, for him, in the name of a “self” or an “I.” On the contrary, it is as though the “self” and the “I” were accomplices of those structures.
Gilles Deleuze, "Nietzsche’s Burst of Laughter: Interview" (via heteroglossia)
winterfellis:

by Ambroise Tezenas
"Know thyself" is the entire field of knowledge. Only when the human being has finally attained knowledge of all things will he have known himself. For things are merely the boundaries of the human being.
Friedrich Nietzsche  (via sisyphean-revolt)

(Source: silencemadenietzschecry, via sisyphean-revolt)

—There is at least one spot in every dream at which it is unplumbable—a navel, as it were, that is its point of contact with the unknown.
Sigmund Freud, The Interpretation of Dreams

(in a footnote in chapter II)
"Spring," by Edna St. Vincent Millay

ecantwell:

To what purpose, April, do you return again?
Beauty is not enough.
You can no longer quiet me with the redness
Of little leaves opening stickily.
I know what I know.
The sun is hot on my neck as I observe
The spikes of the crocus.
The smell of the earth is good.
It is apparent that there is no…

saatchiart:

Rosy Finch Melissa McGill United States Original: $700