You get representations of the horned Beast right across the universe in myths and legends of a million worlds. Earth, Draconia, Vel Consadine, Daemos… The Kaled god of war, the same image, over and over again. Maybe, that idea came from somewhere. Bleeding through, a thought of every sentient mind… Maybe that’s what the Devil is, in the end. An idea. The Devil is an idea. In all those civilizations, just an idea. But an idea is hard to kill.
Boileau said that Kings, Gods, and Heroes only were fit subjects for literature. The writer can only write about what he admires. Present day kings aren’t very inspiring, the gods are on vacation, and about the only heroes left are the scientists and the poor…. And since our race admires gallantry, the writer will deal with it where he finds it. He finds it in the struggling poor now.
You know, it’s a funny thing, you can smoke yourself to death, drink yourself to death, work yourself to death, and even eat yourself to death. But that’s all acceptable. The only thing you can’t do medically is screw yourself to death and yet that’s where they put all the obstacles.
Nothing to me feels as good as laughing incredibly hard.
How one lives is so far distant from how one ought to live, that he who neglects what is done for what ought to be done, sooner effects his ruin than his preservation; for a man who wishes to act entirely up to his professions of virtue soon meets with what destroys him among so much that is evil.
For one thing, if I’m going to be honest, I like going to the movies, but I find the process of how movies get made horrifying and reprehensible. (Similarly, I like bacon.)
What I want is to be needed. What I need is to be indispensable to somebody. Who I need is somebody that will eat up all my free time, my ego, my attention. Somebody addicted to me. A mutual addiction.
-Chuck Palahniuk
I don’t want to want this. I mean, logically this is what I don’t want. And yet…
