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- Look! Nobody witnessed the formidable
Burial of your one final dream.
Only ingratitude - The Panther -
Was your inseparable companion!
Get used to the mud that awaits you!
Man, on this miserable earth,
Lives amidst beasts, and sees an inevitable
Necessity to also turn into a beast.
Take a match. Light your cigarrete!
The kiss, friend, is the eve of the spit.
The hand that cuddles also stones.
If somebody still pities your suffering,
stone this vile hand that cuddles you,
Spit on the mouth that kisses you!
- I hate mankind, for I think myself one of the best of them, and I know how bad I am.
- Humans may exceed other animals in their sapient capacities, but we also surpass other species on our destructiveness. Many animals cause harm, but we are the most lethal species ever to have inhabited our planet. It is revealing that we do not refer to this superlative property in identifying ourselves. There is ample evidence that we are Homo pernicious – the dangerous, destructive human.
- Few prospective procreators consider the asthetic impact of their potential children. But how many more producers of excrement and urine, flatulence, menstrual blood and semen, sweat, mucus, vomit, and pus do we really need? How much more human waste do we need to process? How many more corpses do we need to dispose of? It would be an aesthetic improvement if there were fewer people.
- He who converses little with men is rarely a misanthrope. Real misanthropes are not found in solitude, but in the world; since it is experience of life, and not at all philosophy, which produces hatred of mankind. A misanthrope who retires from the world loses his misanthropy in solitude.
- Giacomo Leopardi, trans. James Thomson, Essays, Dialogues, and Thoughts (Operette Morali and Pensieri) of Giacomo Leopardi (1978), text LXXXIX, p. 377 ISBN 9780883555644
- I am now quite cured of seeking pleasure in society, be it country or town. A sensible man ought to find sufficient company in himself.
- Mr. Lockwood in Emily Brontë's Wuthering Heights (Ch. III).
- My hate is general, I detest all men;
Some because they are wicked and do evil,
Others because they tolerate the wicked,
Refusing them the active vigorous scorn
Which vice should stimulate in virtuous minds.
- I am misanthropos, and hate mankind
For thy part, I do wish thou wert a dog
That I might love thee something.
- Timon will to the woods; where he shall find
The unkindest beast more kinder than mankind.
The gods confound — hear me, you good gods all —
The Athenians both within and out that wall!
And grant, as Timon grows, his hate may grow
To the whole race of mankind, high and low!
- The world belongs to those who don’t feel. The essential condition for being a practical man is the absence of sensibility. The chief requisite for the practical expression of life is will, since this leads to action. Two things can thwart action – sensibility and analytic thought, the latter of which is just thought with sensibility. All action is by nature the projection of our personality on to the external world, and since the external world is largely and firstly made up of human beings, it follows that this projection of personality is basically a matter of crossing other people’s path, of hindering, hurting or overpowering them, depending on the form our action takes. To act, then, requires a certain incapacity for imagining the personalities of others, their joys and sufferings. Sympathy leads to paralysis. The man of action regards the external world as composed exclusively of inert matter – either intrinsically inert, like a stone he walks on or kicks out of his path, or inert like a human being who couldn’t resist him and thus might as well be a stone as a man since, like a stone, he was walked on or kicked out of the way. The best example of the practical man is the military strategist, in whom extreme concentration of action is joined to its extreme importance. All life is war, and the battle is life’s synthesis. The strategist is a man who plays with lives like the chess player with chess pieces. What would become of the strategist if he thought about how each of his moves brings night to a thousand homes and grief to three thousand hearts? What would become of the world if we were human? If man really felt, there would be no civilization. Art gives shelter to the sensibility that action was obliged to forget. Art is Cinderella, who stayed at home because that’s how it had to be.