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Ich glaube, dass die Angst, die man hat,
wenn man an einem Abgrund steht, in
Wahrheit vielmehr eine Sehnsucht ist.
Eine Sehnsucht, sich fallen zu lassen -
oder die Arme auszubreiten und zu fliegen.

(Isabel Abedi - Whisper)

Eine Geschichte voller Realismus & Lebensmüdigkeit. Bitter. Das trifft mich daran.
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Hanrahan, the hedge schoolmaster, a tall, strong, red-haired young man, came into the barn where some of the men of the village were sitting on Samhain Eve. It had been a dwelling-house, and when the man that owned it had built a better one, he had put the two rooms together, and kept it for a place to store one thing or another. There was a fire on the old hearth, and there were dip candles stuck in bottles, and there was a black quart bottle upon some boards that had been put across two barrels to make a table. Most of the men were sitting beside the fire, and one of them was singing a long wandering song, about a Munster man and a Connaught man that were quarrelling about their two provinces.

Hanrahan went to the man of the house and said, 'I got your message'; but when he had said that, he stopped, for an old mountainy man that had a shirt and trousers of unbleached flannel, and that was sitting by himself near the door, was looking at him, and moving an old pack of cards about in his hands and muttering. 'Don't mind him,' said the man of the house; 'he is only some stranger came in awhile ago, and we bade him welcome, it being Samhain night, but I think he is not in his right wits. Listen to him now and you will hear what he is saying.'

They listened then, and they could hear the old man muttering to himself as he turned the cards, 'Spades and Diamonds, Courage and Power; Clubs and Hearts, Knowledge and Pleasure.'

'That is the kind of talk he has been going on with for the last hour,' said the man of the house, and Hanrahan turned his eyes from the old man as if he did not like to be looking at him.

'I got your message,' Hanrahan said then; '"he is in the barn with his three first cousins from Kilchriest," the messenger said, "and there are some of the neighbours with them."'

'It is my cousin over there is wanting to see you,' said the man of the house, and he called over a young frieze-coated man, who was listening to the song, and said, 'This is Red Hanrahan you have the message for.'

'It is a kind message, indeed,' said the young man, 'for it comes from your sweetheart, Mary Lavelle.'

'How would you get a message from her, and what do you know of her?'

'I don't know her, indeed, but I was in Loughrea yesterday, and a neighbour of hers that had some dealings with me was saying that she bade him send you word, if he met any one from this side in the market, that her mother has died from her, and if you have a mind yet to join with herself, she is willing to keep her word to you.'

'I will go to her indeed,' said Hanrahan.

'And she bade you make no delay, for if she has not a man in the house before the month is out, it is likely the little bit of land will be given to another.'

When Hanrahan heard that, he rose up from the bench he had sat down on. 'I will make no delay indeed,' he said, 'there is a full moon, and if I get as far as Gilchreist to-night, I will reach to her before the setting of the sun to-morrow.'

When the others heard that, they began to laugh at him for being in such haste to go to his sweetheart, and one asked him if he would leave his school in the old lime-kiln, where he was giving the children such good learning. But he said the children would be glad enough in the morning to find the place empty, and no one to keep them at their task; and as for his school he could set it up again in any place, having as he had his little inkpot hanging from his neck by a chain, and his big Virgil and his primer in the skirt of his coat.

Some of them asked him to drink a glass before he went, and a young man caught hold of his coat, and said he must not leave them without singing the song he had made in praise of Venus and of Mary Lavelle. He drank a glass of whiskey, but he said he would not stop but would set out on his journey.

'There's time enough, Red Hanrahan,' said the man of the house. 'It will be time enough for you to give up sport when you are after your marriage, and it might be a long time before we will see you again.'

'I will not stop,' said Hanrahan; 'my mind would be on the roads all the time, bringing me to the woman that sent for me, and she lonesome and watching till I come.'

Some of the others came about him, pressing him that had been such a pleasant comrade, so full of songs and every kind of trick and fun, not to leave them till the night would be over, but he refused them all, and shook them off, and went to the door. But as he put his foot over the threshold, the strange old man stood up and put his hand that was thin and withered like a bird's claw on Hanrahan's hand, and said: 'It is not Hanrahan, the learned man and the great songmaker, that should go out from a gathering like this, on a Samhain night. And stop here, now,' he said, 'and play a hand with me; and here is an old pack of cards has done its work many a night before this, and old as it is, there has been much of the riches of the world lost and won over it.'

One of the young men said, 'It isn't much of the riches of the world has stopped with yourself, old man,' and he looked at the old man's bare feet, and they all laughed. But Hanrahan did not laugh, but he sat down very quietly, without a word. Then one of them said, 'So you will stop with us after all, Hanrahan'; and the old man said: 'He will stop indeed, did you not hear me asking him?'

They all looked at the old man then as if wondering where he came from. 'It is far I am come,' he said, 'through France I have come, and through Spain, and by Lough Greine of the hidden mouth, and none has refused me anything.' And then he was silent and nobody liked to question him, and they began to play. There were six men at the boards playing, and the others were looking on behind. They played two or three games for nothing, and then the old man took a fourpenny bit, worn very thin and smooth, out from his pocket, and he called to the rest to put something on the game. Then they all put down something on the boards, and little as it was it looked much, from the way it was shoved from one to another, first one man winning it and then his neighbour. And some-times the luck would go against a man and he would have nothing left, and then one or another would lend him something, and he would pay it again out of his winnings, for neither good nor bad luck stopped long with anyone.

And once Hanrahan said as a man would say in a dream, 'It is time for me to be going the road'; but just then a good card came to him, and he played it out, and all the money began to come to him. And once he thought of Mary Lavelle, and he sighed; and that time his luck went from him, and he forgot her again.

But at last the luck went to the old man and it stayed with him, and all they had flowed into him, and he began to laugh little laughs to himself, and to sing over and over to himself, 'Spades and Diamonds, Courage and Power,' and so on, as if it was a verse of a song.

And after a while anyone looking at the men, and seeing the way their bodies were rocking to and fro, and the way they kept their eyes on the old man's hands, would think they had drink taken, or that the whole store they had in the world was put on the cards; but that was not so, for the quart bottle had not been disturbed since the game began, and was nearly full yet, and all that was on the game was a few sixpenny bits and shillings, and maybe a handful of coppers.

'You are good men to win and good men to lose,' said the old man, 'you have play in your hearts.' He began then to shuffle the cards and to mix them, very quick and fast, till at last they could not see them to be cards at all, but you would think him to be making rings of fire in the air, as little lads would make them with whirling a
lighted stick; and after that it seemed to them that all the room was dark, and they could see nothing but his hands and the cards.

And all in a minute a hare made a leap out from between his hands, and whether it was one of the cards that took that shape, or whether it was made out of nothing in the palms of his hands, nobody knew, but there it was running on the floor of the barn, as quick as any hare that ever lived.

Some looked at the hare, but more kept their eyes on the old man, and while they were looking at him a hound made a leap out between his hands, the same way as the hare did, and after that another hound and another, till there was a whole pack of them following the hare round and round the barn.

The players were all standing up now, with their backs to the boards, shrinking from the hounds, and nearly deafened with the noise of their yelping, but as quick as the hounds were they could not overtake the hare, but it went round, till at the last it seemed as if a blast of wind burst open the barn door, and the hare doubled and
made a leap over the boards where the men had been playing, and went out of the door and away through the night, and the hounds over the boards and through the door after it.

Then the old man called out, 'Follow the hounds, follow the hounds, and it is a great hunt you will see to-night,' and he went out after them. But used as the men were to go hunting after hares, and ready as they were for any sport, they were in dread to go out into the night, and it was only Hanrahan that rose up and that said, 'I will follow, I will follow on.'

'You had best stop here, Hanrahan,' the young man that was nearest him said, 'for you might be going into some great danger.' But Hanrahan said, 'I will see fair play, I will see fair play,' and he went stumbling out of the door like a man in a dream, and the door shut after him as he went.

He thought he saw the old man in front of him, but it was only his own shadow that the full moon cast on the road before him, but he could hear the hounds crying after the hare over the wide green fields of Granagh, and he followed them very fast for there was nothing to stop him; and after a while he came to smaller fields that
had little walls of loose stones around them, and he threw the stones down as he crossed them, and did not wait to put them up again; and he passed by the place where the river goes under ground at Ballylee, and he could hear the hounds going before him up towards the head of the river. Soon he found it harder to run, for it was uphill he was going, and clouds came over the moon, and it was hard for him to see his way, and once he left the path to take a short cut, but his foot slipped into a boghole and he had to come back to it. And how long he was going he did not know, or what way he went, but at last he was up on the bare mountain, with nothing but the rough heather about him, and he could neither hear the hounds nor any other thing. But their cry began to come to him again, at first far off and then very near, and when it came quite close to him, it went up all of a sudden into the air, and there was the sound of hunting over his head; then it went away northward till he could hear nothing more at all. 'That's not fair,' he said, 'that's not fair.' And he could walk no longer, but sat down on the heather where he was, in the heart of Slieve Echtge, for all the strength had gone from him, with the dint of the long journey he had made.

And after a while he took notice that there was a door close to him, and a light coming from it, and he wondered that being so close to him he had not seen it before. And he rose up, and tired as he was he went in at the door, of and although it was night time outside, it was daylight he found within. And presently he met with an old man that had been gathering summer thyme and yellow flag-flowers, and it seemed as if all the sweet smells of the summer were with them. And the old man said: 'It is a long time you have been coming to us, Hanrahan the learned man and the great songmaker.'

And with that he brought him into a very big shining house, and every grand thing Hanrahan had ever heard of, and every colour he had ever seen, were in it. There was a high place at the end of the house, and on it there was sitting in a high chair a woman, the most beautiful the world ever saw, having a long pale face and flowers about it, but she had the tired look of one that had been long waiting. And there was sitting on the step below her chair four grey old women, and the one of them was holding a great cauldron in her lap; and another a great stone on her knees, and heavy as it was it seemed light to her; and another of them had a very long spear that was made of pointed wood; and the last of them had a sword that was without a scabbard. Red Hanrahan stood looking at them for a long Hanrahan-time, but none of them spoke any word to him or looked at him at all. And he had it in his mind to ask who that woman in the chair was, that was like a queen, and what she was waiting for; but ready as he was with his tongue and afraid of no person, he was in dread now to speak to so beautiful a woman, and in so grand a place. And then he thought to ask what were the four things the four grey old women were holding like great treasures, but he could not think of the right words to bring out.

Then the first of the old women rose up, holding the cauldron between her two hands, and she said 'Pleasure,' and Hanrahan said no word. Then the second old woman rose up with the stone in her hands, and she said 'Power'; and the third old woman rose up with the spear in her hand, and she said 'Courage'; and the last of the old women rose up having the sword in her hands, and she said 'Knowledge.' And everyone, after she had spoken, waited as if for Hanrahan to question her, but he said nothing at all. And then the four old women went out of the door, bringing their tour treasures with them, and as they went out one of them said, 'He has no wish for us'; and another said, 'He is weak, he is weak'; and another said, 'He is afraid'; and the last said, 'His wits are gone from him.' And then they all said 'Echtge, daughter of the Silver Hand, must stay in her sleep. It is a pity, it is a great pity.'

And then the woman that was like a queen gave a very sad sigh, and it seemed to Hanrahan as if the sigh had the sound in it of hidden streams; and if the place he was in had been ten times grander and more shining than it was, he could not have hindered sleep from coming on him; and he staggered like a drunken man and lay down there and then.

When Hanrahan awoke, the sun was shining on his face, but there was white frost on the grass around him, and there was ice on the edge of the stream he was lying by, and that goes running on through Daire- caol and Druim-da-rod. He knew by the shape of the hills and by the shining of Lough Greine in the distance that he was upon one of the hills of Slieve Echtge, but he was not sure how he came there; for all that had happened in the barn had gone from him, and all of his journey but the soreness of his feet and the stiffness in his bones.

It was a year after that, there were men of the village of Cappaghtagle sitting by the fire in a house on the roadside, and Red Hanrahan that was now very thin and worn and his hair very long and wild, came to the half-door and asked leave to come in and rest himself; and they bid him welcome because it was Samhain night. He sat down with them, and they gave him a glass of whiskey out of a quart bottle; and they saw the little inkpot hanging about his neck, and knew he was a scholar, and asked for stories about the Greeks.

He took the Virgil out of the big pocket of his coat, but the cover was very black and swollen with the wet, and the page when he opened it was very yellow, but that was no great matter, for he looked at it like a man that had never learned to read. Some young man that was there began to laugh at him then, and to ask why did he carry so heavy a book with him when he was not able to read it.

It vexed Hanrahan to hear that, and he put the Virgil back in his pocket and asked if they had a pack of cards among them, for cards were better than books. When they brought out the cards he took them and began to shuffle them, and while he was shuffling them something seemed to come into his mind, and he put his hand to his face like one that is trying to remember, and he said: 'Was I ever here before, or where was I on a night like this?' and then of a sudden he stood up and let the cards fall to the floor, and he said, 'Who was it brought me a message from Mary Lavelle?'

'We never saw you before now, and we never heard of Mary Lavelle,' said the man of the house. 'And who is she,' he said, 'and what is it you are talking about?'

'It was this night a year ago, I was in a barn, and there were men playing cards, and there was money on the table, they were pushing it from one to another here and there--and I got a message, and I was going out of the door to look for my sweetheart that wanted me, Mary Lavelle.' And then Hanrahan called out very loud: 'Where have I been since then? Where was I for the whole year?'

'It is hard to say where you might have been in that time,' said the oldest of the men, 'or what part of the world you may have travelled; and it is like enough you have the dust of many roads on your feet; for there are many go wandering and forgetting like that,' he said, when once they have been given the touch.'

'That is true,' said another of the men. 'I knew a woman went wandering like that through the length of seven years; she came back after, and she told her friends she had often been glad enough to eat the food that was put in the pig's trough. And it is best for you to go to the priest now,' he said, 'and let him take off you whatever may have been put upon you.'

'It is to my sweetheart I will go, to Mary Lavelle,' said Hanrahan; 'it is too long I have delayed, how do I know what might have happened her in the length of a year?'

He was going out of the door then, but they all told him it was best for him to stop the night, and to get strength for the journey; and indeed he wanted that, for he was very weak, and when they gave him food he eat it like a man that had never seen food before, and one of them said, 'He is eating as if he had trodden on the hungry grass.' It was in the white light of the morning he set out, and the time seemed long to him till he could get to Mary Lavelle's house. But when he came to it, he found the door broken, and the thatch dropping from the roof, and no living person to be seen. And when he asked the neighbours what had happened her, all they could say was that she had been put out of the house, and had married some labouring man, and they had gone looking for work to London or Liverpool or some big place. And whether she found a worse place or a better he never knew, but anyway he never met with her or with news of her again.

W.B. Yeats / Stories of Red-Hanrahan
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1 Siehe, Wir haben ihn in der Nacht al-Qadr geoffenbart.
2 Und was lehrt dich wisen, was die Nacht al-Qadr ist?
3 Die Nacht al-Qadr ist besser als tausend Monde.
4 Hinabsteigen die Engel und der Geist in ihr mit ihres Herrn Erlaubnis zu jeglichem Geheiß.
5 Frieden ist sie bis zum Aufgang der Morgenröte

Sure 97, Qur'an
Letzter Vers ist von Wahrheit & die Verbindung zu den vorigen.

"Fantasy is silver and scarlet, indigo and azure, obsidian veined with gold and lapis lazuli. Reality is plywood and plastic, done up in mud brown and olive drab. Fantasy tastes of habaneros and honey, cinnamon and cloves, rare red meat and wines as sweet as summer. Reality is beans and tofu, and ashes at the end. Reality is the strip malls of Burbank, the smokestacks of Cleveland, a parking garage in Newark. Fantasy is the towers of Minas Tirith, the ancient stones of Gormenghast, the halls of Camelot. Fantasy flies on the wings of Icarus, reality on Southwest Airlines. Why do our dreams become so much smaller when they finally come true?

We read fantasy to find the colors again, I think. To taste strong spices and hear the songs the sirens sang. There is something old and true in fantasy that speaks to something deep within us, to the child who dreamt that one day he would hunt the forests of the night, and feast beneath the hollow hills, and find a love to last forever somewhere south of Oz and north of Shangri-La.

They can keep their heaven. When I die, I’d sooner go to Middle-Earth."

- George R.R. Martin

Sag's nicht, verbirg dich, hüll sie ein
die Träume und Gefühle dein!
Begnüg dich, tief in dir zu sehn
Ihr stummes Auf- und Niedergehn,
wie in der Nacht der Sterne Licht;
genieße sie und sag es nicht!

Wie käme je ein Herz aus sich?
Wann faßte je ein andrer dich
und wie du lebst und was dich drängt?
Es lügt, wer ausspricht, was er denkt,
Es trübt den Quell, wer in ihn sticht;
trink seine Flut und sag es nicht!

Und leb nur auf dich selbst gestellt;
in deiner Brust webt eine Welt
voll zaub'risch seltsamem Geschwärm -
sie wird betäubt vom äußern Lärm,
geblendet stets vom Tageslicht, -
lausch, was sie singt, und sag es nicht!

If

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master,
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!

~ Rudyard Kipling

Elemental

Why don't people leave off being lovable
or thinking they are lovable, or wanting to be lovable,
and be a bit elemental instead?

Since man is made up of the elements
fire, and rain, and air, and live loam
and none of these is lovable
but elemental,
man is lop-sided on the side of the angels.

I wish men would get back to their balance among the elements
and be a bit more fiery, as incapable of telling lies
as fire is.
I wish they'd be true to their own variation, as water is,
which goes through all the stages of steam and stream and ice
without losing its head.

I am sick of lovable people,
somehow they are a lie.

~ D. H. Lawrence

Die ersten holten and´re herbei.
Es regt sich in jedem Geschosse,
Es war, als wich ein Zauberbann
Von diesem rothen Schlosse;

Als wär´ ein tausendjähr´ger Schlaf
Auf diesen Leuten gelegen,
Nun kommt der Prinz und spricht das Wort,
Und nun beginnt sich´s zu regen.

Panizza

• Sie haben ihre Eide zu einem Mantel genommen und machen abwendig vom Weg. Siehe, übel ist ihr Tun.
• Solches, dieweil sie glaubten und hernach ungläubig wurden. Und so wurden ihre Herzen versiegelt und sie verstehen nicht.
• Und wenn du sie siehst, gefallen dir ihre Gestalten, und sprechen sie, so hörst du auf ihre Rede. Gleich angekleideten Balken sind sie und glauben doch, daß jeder Laut wider sie ist. Sie sind der Feind, drum hüte dich vor ihnen. Schlag sie tot, wie sind sie abgewendet!

Qur'an, Sure 63

Er hatte geliebt und dabei sich selbst gefunden. Die meisten aber lieben, um sich zu verlieren.

Ein paar Jahre wurde gesoffen und gejubelt, und dann kroch man unter und wurde ein seriöser Herr im Staatsdienst. Ja, es war faul bei uns, und diese Studentendummheit war weniger dumm und weniger schlimm als hundert andere.

Überall Gemeinsamkeit, überall zusammenhocken, überall Abladen des Schicksals und Flucht in warme Herdenhände.

Traurig ging ich nach Hause zurück, zu meinen unerlösten Träumen.

Wir ziehen die Grenzen unserer Persönlichkeit immer viel zu eng! Wir rechnen zu unserer Person immer bloß das, was wir als individuell unterscheiden, als abweichend erkennen.

Das kluge Reden hat gar keinen Wert, gar keinen. Man kommt nur von sich selber weg. Von sich selber wegkommen ist Sünde. Man muß sich in sich selber völlig verkriechen können wie eine Schildkröte.

Der Mensch, den Sie töten möchten, ist ja nie der Herr Soundso, er ist sicher nur eine Verkleidung. Wenn wir einen Menschen hassen, so hassen wir in seinem Bild etwas, was in uns selber sitzt. Was nicht in uns selber ist, regt uns nicht auf.

Es gibt also Sachen und Menschen, vor denen du Angst hast. Woher kann das kommen? Man braucht vor niemand Angst zu haben. Wenn man jemand fürchtet, dann kommt das daher, daß man diesem Jemand Macht über sich eingeräumt hat.

…Aber ich begreife nicht, warum einer ‚'reiner' sein soll, der sein Gechlecht unterdrückt, als irgendein anderer. Oder kannst du das Geschlechtliche auch aus allen Gedanken und Träumen ausschalten?

Ach, das weiß ich heute: nichts auf der Welt ist dem Menschen mehr zuwider, als den Weg zu gehen, der ihn zu sich selber führt!

Demian, Hermann Hesse (-> neben seinem Steppenwolf eines der stechendsten Schriften, welche ich je las.)

Wenn die Mädchen gross geworden,
Wenn sie achtzehn, zwanzig Jahre,
Nähen sie sich weisse Kleider,
Myrtenkränze in die Haare.

Solch' ein Bräutchen sucht der Jüngling
Wenn noch schmeichelnd seine Locken,
Wenn noch muthig seine Wangen,
Und sein Herz pocht vor Frohlocken.

In der Kirche spricht der Pfarrer:
Dass ein Band Euch stets umschlinge!
Auf die weissen zarten Hände
Gleiten dann die goldnen Ringe.

Ja, - das thun gesunde Leute
Ohne irgend welche Mahnung -
O, glaub' mir, wie sie gesund sind
Keiner hat davon die Ahnung!

Ja, das thun gesunde Menschen
Zwischen zwanzig, dreissig Jahren,
O, wie schrecklich sie gesund sind
Keiner hat es je erfahren!

Beim Glockenklang des Wahnsinns schlagen die Stunden der Venus.

Lassen wir nie aus den Augen, daß die Person, die uns am meisten zu umgarnen versucht, gewiß Fehler verbirgt, die uns bald anekeln würden, wenn wir sie kennenlernten. Es hilft vielleicht Liebe auszulöschen...

D.A.F. Sade

Wer ist diese ohnmächtige und unfruchtbare Chimäre, diese Gottheit, die ein widerlicher Haufe betrügerischer Priester dem Dummkopf predigt? Wollen sie auch mich in ihre Sekte einreihen? Niemals, das schwöre ich und werde mein Wort halten; niemals wird dieser fade, mißgestaltete Götze, dies Kind des Schwachsinns und Gelächters, auf mein Herz den geringsten Eindruck machen. Ich fühle mich als Epikuräer zufrieden und erhoben und wünsche mein Leben im Schoß des Atheismus zu enden. Der niederträchtige Gott, der mich erschrecken soll, sei nur, ihn zu lästern, von mir begriffen. Ja, eitle Illusion, meine Seele verabscheut dich und, um dich davon besser zu überzeugen, erkläre ich: Wärest du doch fähig, einen Augenblick lang zu existieren, damit ich mich des Spaßes erfreuen mag, dich trefflicher zu beleidigen. Wer ist dieses abscheuliche Phantom, dieser Hanswurst von einem Gott, dieses schreckliche Wesen, das den Augen nichts bietet, dem Geiste nichts beweist; das, vom Einfaltspinsel gefürchtet, vom Weisen belacht, dem Verstand nichts kennzeichnet und keinem begreiflich wird; dessen barbarischer Kult zu allen Zeiten mehr Blut kostete, als in tausend Jahren der Krieg oder Themis im Zorn unter uns vergießen konnte? Diesen vergotteten Bettler mag ich analysieren und studieren soviel ich will; nur eine unreine Ansammlung von Widersprüchen kann mein philosophisches Auge in diesem Leitbild eurer Religionen erkennen, das keiner strengen Prüfung standhält; das man zum Spaß beleidigt, dem man trotzt, das man herausfordert, das die Furcht zeugte, die Furcht gebar;

Die Idee eines Gottes entstand immer nur dann unter den menschen, wenn sie Furcht hatten oder eine Hoffnung hegten; dem allein muß man die fast allgemeine Einstimmigkeit der Menschen hinsichtlich dieser Chimäre zuschreiben. Der mensch, schlechthin ein unglückliches Wesen, hatte überall und zu allen Zeiten Anlaß zu Furcht und Hoffnung, und allenthalben beschwor er die Ursache seiner Qualen, wie er auch stets auf ein Ende seiner Übel hoffte. Allzu unwissend oder zu leichtgläubig, um einsehen zu können, wie seiner Existenz, in deren Natur selbst begründet, das Unglück unentrinnbar anhaftet, schuf er, im Anruf des Wesens, das er verantwortlich wähnte, Chimären, von denen er sich lossagte, sobald Studium und Erfahrung ihn ihre Nutzlosigkeit erkennen ließen. Furcht schuf die Götter, und die Hoffnung hielt sie am Leben.

.. so herrscht der geschickte Betrüger, der es den menschen verkündet, über unsere traurigen Geschicke nach Belieben...

Sade, Wahrheit.

Trash, filth, perversion—it's dee-vine!

/

<3

Sich einem Menschen anzuvertrauen, ist im Grunde wie ein Spiel, bei dem man entweder alles verliert oder alle gewinnt. der andere ist immer der Gegner und genauso muss man ihn behandeln. Kein Spieler legt seine Karten offen auf den Tisch. Er behält sie in der hand und wählt aus, welche er zuerst aufdeckt und welche er bis zum Schluss zurückbehält. - Isabel Abedi / Whisper

Das Mitleid bleibt immer dasselbe Gefühl, ob man es für einen Menschen oder für eine Fliege empfindet. Der dem Mitleid zugängliche Mensch entzieht sich in beiden Fällen dem Egoismus und erweitert dadurch die moralische Befriedigung seines Lebens. - Tolstoi

Man muß daran glauben, daß Glück möglich ist,
um glücklich zu sein. - Tolstoi

Hey alle zusammen,

meine Freundin hat in zwei Wochen Geburtstag und ist auch ein riesiger Harry Potter Fan. Ein Zitat hat es ihr besonders angetan "Viel mehr, als unsere Fähigkeiten sind es unsere Entscheidungen, die zeigen, wer wir wirklich sind." von Albus Dumbledore. Ich würde dieses Zitat gerne auf ein Bild meiner Wahl schreiben und anschließend ein Poster davon drucken. Ich kenne mich mit Fotobearbeitung und Fotografie nur leider überhaupt nicht aus. Könnt ihr mir vielleicht ein gutes Porgramm empfehlen, mit welchem ich das mit der Schrift umsetzen könnte? Dazu sollte es simpel und einfach zu gebrauchen sein. Drucken lassen würde ich es bei https://www.cewe-fotobuch.de/ als selbstklebendes Poster. Ich hatte letztens schon mal in meinem Handy geschaut und ein gelungenes Tannenbild entdeckt, was ich dieses Jahr geschossen hatte, als ich mit ihr im Urlaub war. Dann wird sie gleichzeitig auch daran erinnert. Würde mich freuen, wenn mir jemand helfen könnte.

Ganz liebe Grüße!

"Dying is not romantic, and death is not a game which will soon be over...Death is not anything...death is not...It's the absence of presence, nothing more...the endless time of never coming back...a gap you can't see, and when the wind blows through it, it makes no sound."

Tom Stoppard, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead

"Die Menschen glauben an ein Leben nach dem Tod, weil sie das Gegenteil nicht ertragen können." - John Green - eine wie Alaska

"Alles ist gut. Der Mensch ist unglücklich , weil er nicht weiß, dass er glücklich ist. Nur deshalb. Das ist alles, alles! Wer das erkennt, der wird gleich glücklich sein, sofort im selben Augenblick."
(Dostojewski, Die Dämonen)

What’s an “Islamophobe”? Is this a genuine academic term that professors should be using — or a manipulative political term that unmasks the Mainstream-Elite as propagandists rather than educators?
.. “I vehemently reject the ‘Islamophobe’ label, which is only a tool used by Islamic apologists to silence criticism.

Ohne Frauen, kein Sinn.

Honi soit qui mal y pense

Sentenz König Edward III. von England (1312–1377)

And therefore, — since I cannot prove a lover,
To entertain these fair well-spoken days, —
I am determined to prove a villain,
And hate the idle pleasures of these days.

- William Shakespeare, Richard III

Sie können doch nicht leugnen, daß Mann und Weib in Ihrer heiteren sonnigen Welt ebensogut wie in unserer nebligen, von Natur Feinde sind, daß die Liebe für die kurze Zeit zu einem einzigen Wesen vereint, das nur eines Gedankens, einer Empfindung, eines Willens fähig ist, um sie dann noch mehr zu entzweien, und – nun Sie wissen es besser als ich – wer dann nicht zu unterjochen versteht, wird nur zu rasch den Fuß des anderen auf seinem Nacken fühlen –«

»Und zwar in der Regel der Mann den Fuß des Weibes«, rief Frau Venus mit übermütigem Hohne, »was Sie wieder besser wissen als ich.«

»Gewiß, und eben deshalb mache ich mir keine Illusionen.«

»Das heißt, Sie sind jetzt mein Sklave ohne Illusionen, und ich werde Sie dafür auch ohne Erbarmen treten.«

»Madame!«

»Kennen Sie mich noch nicht, ja, ich bin grausam – weil Sie denn schon an dem Worte so viel Vergnügen finden – und habe ich nicht recht, es zu sein? Der Mann ist der Begehrende, das Weib das Begehrte, dies ist des Weibes ganzer, aber entscheidender Vorteil, die Natur hat ihm den Mann durch seine Leidenschaft preisgegeben, und das Weib, das aus ihm nicht seinen Untertan, seinen Sklaven, ja sein Spielzeug zu machen und ihn zuletzt lachend zu verraten versteht, ist nicht klug.«

»Ihre Grundsätze, meine Gnädige«, warf ich entrüstet ein.

»Beruhen auf tausendjähriger Erfahrung«, entgegnete Madame spöttisch, während ihre weißen Finger in dem dunkeln Pelz spielten, »je hingebender das Weib sich zeigt, um so schneller wird der Mann nüchtern und herrisch werden; je grausamer und treuloser es aber ist, je mehr es ihn mißhandelt, je frevelhafter es mit ihm spielt, je weniger Erbarmen es zeigt, um so mehr wird es die Wollust des Mannes erregen, von ihm geliebt, angebetet werden. So war es zu allen Zeiten, seit Helena und Delila, bis zur zweiten Katharina und Lola Montez herauf.«

»Ich kann es nicht leugnen«, sagte ich, »es gibt für den Mann nichts, das ihn mehr reizen könnte, als das Bild einer schönen, wollüstigen und grausamen Despotin, welche ihre Günstlinge übermütig und rücksichtslos nach Laune wechselt –«

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This is my favorite Book of all Time...!!!! Neben dem 'Garten der Qualen' & 'Kokaina' vielleicht...