tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13588545.post-1119285844735648202005-06-20T18:19:00.000+02:002005-07-28T15:55:17.576+02:00Circle I.5: The Book"<span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">T</span><span style="font-style: italic;">o be a tragic hero in the theatre of life, to act as noble as a spirit itself, to be in secret of uselessness of the being. Or, to be an actor to whom acting as it is, means the purpose of existence, without any value, with no denouement.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6115/1200/1600/5-Book.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6115/1200/320/5-Book.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">H</span><span style="font-style: italic;">ero acts in harmony with the supreme, one that is more grandiose than the existence itself. That way, he disestablishes selves grown by lightness of an idea. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">A</span><span style="font-style: italic;">ctor despises destiny and knows techniques to prevail its blind forces. But he prevails through elegy, which feeds his own lamentable destiny.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">B</span><span style="font-style: italic;">oth positions are having their finale in an absurd, although both of them have their origin in the question of being.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">T</span><span style="font-style: italic;">o be and even not to be, that is the answer.</span>"<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">H</span>ush and quiet giggles, stretched from the table behind, were just enough to break up Rastoder's hardly gathered concentration. However, he found more likely to listen gossips of innocent girls than reading and understanding dubious text from the book.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">H</span>e was not a kind of mystical mood man who searches for the great answers. It seemed like he even despised great questions from the best possible reason - he felt blase for them. Furthermore, he assumed idiots those who were still renting those ideas.<br /><br />"<span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">S</span><span style="font-style: italic;">ubjecting meaning or nonsense is a proof of adolescence or even retardation of mind. Era of Absolute Spirit, that has been fostered for centuries by totalitarian mind - God Ratio, has passed. Last effort of that oblivion was the silly attempt made by Hitler's Nazi's. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">T</span><span style="font-style: italic;">oday, it's outrageous not to see that being is plurality of images, forms, which are not to be rationalized. Images of being needn't be thought as absolute concept in order to have any meaning. The being is a plurality that should be presumed, and resumed. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">T</span><span style="font-style: italic;">he man is an artist, who experiences and creates the being. That is his highest potential and dignity. Rest is rationalization, that means reduction of beauty of the being to the plane vulgarity of the concept. Ratio is vulgar, not capable to sublime, only to score and number.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">T</span><span style="font-style: italic;">herefore, the era of human emancipation as a rational earthling, is the era of collapse of humanity in human being. It culminates with metaphysical systems about the meaning of life...</span>"<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">F</span>or a moment, Rastoder was distracted. He was strangely observed. He noticed that his forefinger was pointing and his mouth were opened as he meant to say something of a great importance. Image of himself made him feel ridiculous. He sealed the book and turned to librarian.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6115/1200/1600/5-library.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6115/1200/320/5-library.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />- I shall take out this one! - although he couldn't understand anything.<br /><br />- That's single one we've got. Strange, for years it stood on the shelf, and you're third one to ask for it lately.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script type="text/javascript"><!-- google_ad_client = "pub-8611827934816256"; google_ad_width = 468; google_ad_height = 60; google_ad_format = "468x60_as"; google_ad_type = "text_image"; google_ad_channel ="2403465966"; //--></script> <script type="text/javascript" src="http://pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/show_ads.js"> </script></div>Istvan Rastoderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02182192191600288719noreply@blogger.com