What does man actually know about himself? Is he, indeed, ever able to perceive himself completely, as if laid out in a lighted display case? Does nature not conceal most things from him -even concerning his own body- in order to confine and lock him within a proud, deceptive consciousness, aloof from the coils of the bowels, the rapid flow of the bloodstream, and the intricate quivering of the fibres? She threw away the key. And woe to that fatal curiosity which might one day have the power to peer out and down through a crack in the chamber of consciousness and then suspect that man is sustained in the indifference of his ignorance by that which is pitiless, greedy, insatiable, and murderous - as if hanging in dreams on the back of a tiger.
Nietzsche, On Truth and Lies in a Nonmoral Sense.
2 comments:
The book I'm reading now- i've started reading it from the end - quotes Nietzshe:
"Live as though the day were here", when talking about the modern hero. The book is "The Hero with a thousand faces", of Joseph Campbell...
I am looking for serenity - these last days - and I'm finding it here :)
:)
I hope you will return to your blog with new poems and pics soon, whatever you want to put away on your blog.
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