Norwegian Intellectual, Author of Novels, Short Stories and Children's Books
Norwegian Intellectual, Author of Novels, Short Stories and Children's Books
We're going to come with a spell in a magic.
When two people meet, he said, and one is upside down, it isn't always easy to tell which of them is the right way up.
Who are you? Where does the world come from? What annoying questions! And anyway where did the letters come from? That was just as mysterious, almost.
You see how the way because we know that our souls new panel too? I do not think so, not really I think, but the dream something imaginary bears a name. That illusion we call hope.
Our lives are part of a unique adventure... Nevertheless, most of us think the world is 'normal' and are constantly hunting for something abnormal--like angels or Martians. But that is just because we don't realize the world is a mystery. As for myself, I felt completely different. I saw the world as an amazing dream. I was hunting for some kind of explanation of how everything fit together.
Plotinus believed that the world is span between two polls. At one end is the divine light which he calls the One. Sometimes he calls it God. At the other end is absolute darkness, which receives none of the light from the One. But Plotinus' point is that this darkness actually has no existence. It simply is the absence of light - in other words, it 'is' not. All that exists is God, or the One, but in the same way that a beam of light grows progressively dimmer and is gradually extinguished, there is somewhere that the divine glow cannot reach.
Socrates himself said, 'One thing only I know, and this is that I know nothing.' Remember this statement, because it is an admission that is rare, even among philosophers. Moreover, it can be so dangerous to say in public that it can cost you your life. The most subversive people are those who ask questions. Giving answers is not nearly as threatening. Any one question can be more explosive than a thousand answers.
Spider draws all of its interior... Not all writers do that. Some people are like ants, a little here, a little there, and then what they so laboriously, consider his work. Critics no objections believe that almost all writers fall into that category. We are happy to indicate that the book contains traces, draws from has a debt of gratitude to certain titles or current or contemporary, or with a history of literature, and that even if the said author has never come close to those items. Critics, however, take almost for granted that all writers are equally learned and equally deprived of fantasy as they are. It seems that as an axiom accepted the impossibility of the formation of any of the original pulse, at least this is not possible in any small country, and certainly not above our own. However, there is also a third category of writers. Those who have used the Emergency Copyright, were like bees. We?re diving out to collect nectar in the rose garden Spider, thus gained a raw material, but most of them are putting a lot of effort and effort into his rework. Digest collected from the nectar of roses and converts it into their own honey.
The devil finds work for idle hands.
The individual in modern urban society had become `the public`, he said [Kierkegaard], and the predominant characteristic of the crowd, or the masses, was all their noncommittal `talk`. Today we would probably use the word `conformity`; that is when everybody `thinks` and `believes in` the same things without having any deeper feeling about it.
The relay two things in nature, does not mean that one other reason, if the first duties of the philosopher: rooting out people from hasty conclusions, because it means the risk of falling into the myths and superstition.
Then I ask, ?When can we see again?? Remains motionless staring at the asphalt before looking up at me. Her pupils are dancing a restless dance, it seems to me that her lips tremble. Then I put a question to which I would return to much later. I said How much can you expect? What was I supposed to answer that question, Georg? Maybe it was a trick. If I said two or three days, I would have proved too impatient. And if I had answered all my life, he only believed or did not like me seriously, or simply that I was not serious. So I had to find a middle ground. I said I can wait until your heart does not bleed for. Pain
There might be lots of different ways of getting to the top of the mountain, but the mountain itself would stay exactly the same. And we must have been fairly alike to begin with, because each of us is a kind of mountain climber. There, at the top of that mountain, we might make a big pile of stones together. Then we might sit down and rest after the long climb. For once we might forget all our worries, large and small. We would have left them behind in the valleys.
To Summarize briefly: A white rabbit is pulled out of a top hat. Because it is an extremely large rabbit, the trick takes many billions of years. All mortals are born at the very tip of the rabbit's fine hairs. Where they are in a position to wonder at the impossibility of the trick. But as they grow older they work themselves even deeper into the fur. And there they stay. They become so comfortable they never risk crawling back up the fragile hairs again. Only philosophers embark on this perilous expedition to the outermost reaches of language and existence. Some of the fall off, but other cling on desperately and yell at the people nestling deep in the snug softness, stuffing themselves with delicious food and drink. 'Ladies and gentlemen,' they yell, 'we are floating in space!' but none of the people down there care. 'What a bunch of troublemakers!' they say. And they keep on chatting: Would you pass the butter, please? How much have our stocks risen today? What is the price of tomatoes? Have you heard that Princes Di is expecting again?
We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with a sleep.
What do you learn in school, Hans Thomas? Dad asked. To sit still, I replied. It's so difficult that we've many spend years learning to do it.
When we die - it is as if all the scenes are already placed on the roll of film, and decorations dismantled and burnt - we become phantoms in the memories of our descendants. We become ghosts, my dear, we become a myth. But for now, we are still together; still we are together the past, the distant past. Under the dome of the mythical past, still hear your voice.
Who can find the right book, will be in the middle of the best friends. There we will blend in with the character of the smartest, most intelligent, and most sublime; there pride and nobility of man.
You would realize that all the cookies were formed in the same mold. And what is more, Sophie, you are now seized by the irresistible desire to see this mold. Because clearly, the mold itself must be utter perfection - and in a sense, more beautiful - in comparison with these crude copies.
Our observations do not allow us to see only vague explanations. But what we see of us, thanks to the mind, brings us to the true knowledge.
Prospects for the future seem to persist in mystery so indispensable for the retention of non - enablers in our minds; if there is a creator, what is it? If there is no creator, what is this world?
Socrates, whose mother was a midwife, used to say that his art was like the art of the midwife. She does not herself give birth to the child, but she is there to help during its delivery. Similarly, Socrates saw his task as helping people to 'give birth' to correct insight, since real understanding must come from within? Everybody can grasp philosophical truths if they just use their innate reason.
Suddenly I realized that people, both in and out of school care about things quite fleeting. Although there are other, more fundamental issues and the difficulty of the school program matters!
The earliest Greek philosopher's criticized Homer's mythology because the gods resembled mortals too much and were just as egotistic and treacherous.
The Life and Death glued to back to back. It is impossible to feel that we are alive if you do not also think we will die one day, and we cannot think, without the feeling, in the same strange miracle moment, the miracle of being alive, only now pay attention to how far is the beautiful life.