MiembroSkeye

Libros: 20
Colecciones: Tu biblioteca (20)
Etiquetas: sexuality (1), Rumi (1), naked kill (1), Mother Company (1), GO (1), OPEC (1), political (1), CIA (1), bonsai (1), social criticism (1), Satori (1), Basque (1), psyops (1), spelunking (1), philosophy (1), assassin (1), poetry (1), wet-works (1)
Nubes: Nube de Etiquetas, Nube de autores, Espejo de etiquetas
Medios
Unido/a: Feb 18, 2008

Nombre verdadero: Skeye
Sobre mi biblioteca: I have never let my schooling stand in the way of my education.

I have no liking for novels or stories--none in the world; and so, whenever I read one--which is not oftener than once in two years, and even in these same cases I seldom read beyond the middle of the book--my distaste for the vehicle always taints my judgment of the literature itself, as a matter of course; and also of course makes my verdict valuless. Are you saying "You have written stories yourself." Quite true: but the fact that an Indian likes to scalp people is no evidence that he likes to be scalped.

Good friends, good books and a sleepy conscience: this is the ideal life.
Sobre mí: We do not deal much in fact when we are contemplating ourselves.

As to the human race. There are many pretty and winning things about the human race. It is perhaps the poorest of all the inventions of all the gods but it has never suspected it once. There is nothing prettier than its naive and complacent appreciation of itself. It comes out frankly and proclaims without bashfulness or any sign of a blush that it is the noblest work of God. It has had a billion opportunities to know better, but all signs fail with this ass. I could say harsh things about it but I cannot bring myself to do it--it is like hitting a child.

Meantime I have made more than 40 sea voyages & numerous land trips, & have gone clear around the globe once. This seems a hard fate. No, not seems--it was a hard fate. I made all those journeys because I could not help myself--made them with rebellion in my heart, & bitterness. Human life is maliciously planned with one principal object in view: to make you do all the different kinds of things you particularly don't want to do.

It is human life. We are blown upon the world; we float buoyantly upon the summer air a little while, complacently showing off our grace of form and our dainty iridescent colors; then we vanish with a little puff, leaving nothing behind but a memory--and sometimes not even that. I suppose that at those solemn times when we wake in the deeps of the night and reflect, there is not one of us who is not willing to confess that he is really only a soap-bubble, and as little worth the making.
Ubicación: Here, where else?
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