from the book of disquiet
215
I have the most conflicting opinions, the most divergent beliefs. For it’s never I who thinks, speaks or acts. It’s always one of my dreams, which I momentarily embody, that thinks, speaks and acts for me. I open my mouth, but it’s I-another who speaks. The only thing I feel to be really mine is a huge incapacity, a vast emptiness, an incompetence for everything that is life. I don’t know the gestures for any real act….
I never learned how to exist.
I obtain everything I want, as long as it’s inside me.
I’d like the reading of this book to leave you with the impression that you’ve traversed a sensual nightmare.
What used to be moral is aesthetic for us. What was social is now individual.
Why should I look at twilights if I have within me thousands of diverse twilights - including some that aren’t twilights - and if, besides seeing them inside me, I myself am them, on the inside and the outside?
July 31st, 2009 at 2:37 pm
http://romancelessons.blogspot.com/2005/11/soul-of-narcissist.html