Does our ferocity not derive from the fact that our instincts are all too interested in other people? If we attended more to ourselves and became the center, the object of our murderous inclinations, the sum of our intolerances would diminish.
Basis of society: anonymous sweat.
To defy heredity is to defy billions of years, to defy the first cell
To act is to anchor in the imminent future.
Life creates itself in delirium and is undone in ennui.
Nostalgia, more than anything, gives us the shudder of our own imperfection. This is why with Chopin we feel so little like gods.