Skip to main content

Darts and Punches




Writers of maxims are just bad poets.

*

Poets are writers who are either very busy or very lazy.

*

Proud people are generally successful; too bad success comes with unhappiness and discontent.

*

Pride is a silent inner debate between your impossible ambition and humble reality, between hopes for success and fame, and inevitable failure. Both master and slave, the proud man tortures himself: no other hand can hurt it as much, and no other sword can take its life.

*

Proud death. I'd like to see a proud man as he dies. Would he still be able to maintain his posture?

*

False humility. To know that you're the least but to think you could be better.

*

Ambition. A wish is a hope you think you deserve; a dream is a wish you work hard for; ambition is a dream you work hard for but do not deserve.

*

Competition. If it weren't for man's pride we would still be hunting deer for dinner.

*

Happiness, like love, is overrated. The point is to deserve both without actually being happy and loved.

*

Happy men look like shallow women.

*

Man was not made to be happy. Look at his face when he sleeps: Is that not the face of an indifferent Stoic or the man in the coffin?

*

I'd rather choose despair over happiness because the former is an excellent teacher while the latter is merely a flatterer.

*

Fear of happiness. Because no one ever had a hangover that lasted just as long as a happy hour.

*

Thought is the late shadow of our emotions.

*

Look at the eyes of the simple: they are obsessed and absorbed with the visual and the material. Whilst the eyes of the thinker--melancholy and indifferent--pass through walls and can only be sustained by the horizon, both infinite and nothing--like thinking.

*

No melancholia, no philosophy.

*

The mystics and saints welcomed madness like the rain. It washed them from the vanities of the world and gave them a taste of the excesses of paradise.

*

How boring and ordinary if I were not mad! But the difference between mad wisdom and ignorant madness is that the latter turns the sword to himself while the former is able to wield it against everyone else.
*

Magnifying one's self. Find one power in your self, explore it, cultivate it, and heighten it--you become larger than you are. A legend, perhaps; a man, at least.

*

What does it take to be a great man? One thing only: "Become who you are!" (Nietzsche). What you are now, what you are doing, the life you are living--that is not you! Counter and destroy yourself--to find and build your real self. Whence the real grandeur and horror of the phoenix.

*

On real power. The recognition of our weaknesses. Now you do not have to fight all the battles anymore.

*

The road to greatness passes through a vale of tears but leads to disappearing in a foreign land. To go back, as in a parade, can only make you the victorious hero for the day that will have to prove himself in another one; while the vanished is the stuff of epics and legends.

*

Those who come late never arrive at all.

*

Stupid people try to be profound by hiding behind opaque words; wise people aim for the impossible--to be understood by stupid people.

*

It's not where you look but what you see.

*

Insecurity invented friendship.

*

Tell me what you fail to do and I'll tell you who you are.

*

"You cannot always look at the world with your eyes wide open" (Rushdie). Hence the eyes of the saints are always half-closed.

*

Small people always have something to prove.

*

A woman's perfume is the scent of the dead in heaven.

*

The thinker delights in paradoxes while the simple avoid them.




Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The Fields of Amorsolo

The first National Artist in Philippine history, referred to warmly as the “Grand Old Man of Philippine Art,” Fernando Amorsolo (1892–1972) still stands today as a looming figure in Philippine art responsible for being one of the artists who helped define what we up to now visually imagine as essentially Filipino. The images of rural life, of golden fields below clear blue, blue skies; the smiles of farmers which diminish their weariness as they plant, harvest, and winnow rice;most especially the iconic figure of the Filipina maiden working in the fields—the beloved dalagang bukid--; these, I believe, even after generations of Filipino painters since Amorsolo, have remained in our hearts and memory. Amorsolo did what great masters do for their country: bestow upon it its own icons, represent its native beauty, that is, to give its people and lands an identity and a face. There are, however, as many intentions for art as there are works of art. And these intentions will always remain in…

[Payapang Daigdig]

Written by Pat Nogoy, S.J.

Payapang Daigdig Felipe de Leon, Sr. 
Ang gabi'y payapa Lahat ay tahimik  Pati mga tala      Sa bughaw na langit 

Kay hinhin ng hangin Waring umiibig          Sa kapayapaan          Ng buong daigdig     
Payapang panahon    Ay diwa ng buhay Biyaya ng Diyos       Sa sangkatauhan
Ang gabi'y payapa Lahat ay tahimik Pati mga tala Sa bughaw na langit  
Pati mga tala           Sa bughaw na langit


The gift delivers Being/being Jean Luc Marion

There is something about the night.
The blanket of darkness hovering the other half of the day sparks ambivalence. Everything is the same in darkness—fear, joy, pain, triumph, doubt, glory, sorrow. Identities recede unto the vast anonymity. There is a pervading anxiety where existence slips into nothingness. One is never certain what to make out of darkness; maybe that is why the night shakes us because we never know. One cannot avoid imagining a something that is greater, higher, mightier, (even sinister) that lurks (hence the power of ghos…

Without Why (The Rose) II

Lifetime is a child at play; moving pieces in a game.
Kingship belongs to the child.

Heraclitus, Fragment 52


The child at play never asks itself why it plays. The child just plays; and if it could, it will play as long as possible, it will play throughout its life. See its delight and witness its smile.

If it would never go hungry or if the sun would never set it too will never leave its playmates and playthings. Time flies at play because it stops or suspends time. Time -- as we grownups only know too well -- is the culprit for order, schedules and priorities; yet for the child, there is no time, there is only bottomless play. It is we who impose that this or that should be done at this or that time. We stop the absurd and supposedly endless play ("He does nothing but play") because we insist that discipline, order and priorities be instilled in the child at an early age ("He needs to learn other things beside playing"). So that the child will become like us one da…