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Posted: May 8, 2017 in Books
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Bellow there is some quotes from Eric G. Wilson’s book “Agains Happiness: in praise of melancholy” (2008 – Sarah Crichton Books / 1st paperback edition in 2009):

“That’d finally it; happy types ultimately don’t live their own liver at all. They follow some prefabricated script, some ton-step plan for bliss or some stairway to heaven.” (p. 28)

“Once we accept these seasons of mental water as inevitable parts of our life – indeed, once we affirm them as essential elements of existence – then the paradox comes truly alive. We actually feel, in the midst of our sorrow, something akin to joy. […] We die into life.” (p. 37)

“[…] the sense that chaos is the original power of the universe, an indifferent reservoir out of which pairs of opposites arise.” (p. 49)

“Ever since the fifth century B.C., people had feared the most sinister of the four humors: melancholia, or black bile. In classical Greece, physicians like Hippocrates believes that the body was composed of four humors. These were cholera, phlegm, blood, and, of course, melancholia. According to the ancient theory, these humors dictated dispositions. A chronically irascible man suffered from much cholera. A tranquil individual possessed an overload of phlegm. A vigorous soul enjoyed a good quantity of blood. And a morose person was beset by a predominance of black bile.

This melancholy person was open to the most pernicious evils. He could turn misanthropic, fearful, despondent, nervous, or mad.” (p. 70)

“[…] the durable melancholia reveals the secret of joy while ecstasy unveils the core of gloom. Sensing this interdependence, we feel ready to move this way or that, light on our feet, untroubled by a desire to grasp that side or this. We can play in the middle.” (p. 84)

“[…]’chase away the demons, and they will take the angels with them.’” (p. 99)

“Indeed, you can experience beauty only when you have a melancholy foreboding that all things in this world will die. The transience of an object makes it beautiful, and its transience is manifested in its fault lines, its expressions of decrepitude. To go in fear of death is to forgo beauty for prettiness, that flaccid rebellion against corrosion. To walk with death in your head is to open the heart to peerless flashes of fire.” (p. 115)

“[…] Without melancholia, the earth would likely freeze into a fixed state, as predictable as metal. Only with the help of constant sorrow can this dying world be changes, enlivened, pushed to the new.” (p. 145)

Um café preto e umas constatações niilistas. #coffee #book #nihilism

A post shared by Luceni Hellebrandt (@hellebrandt) on

Against Happiness

 

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