Few people nowadays know what man is. Many sense this ignorance and die the more easily because of it, the same way that I will die more easily once I have completed this story.
I have begun to listen to the teachings my blood whispers to me. (skip) it has the take of nonsense and chaos, of madness and dreams - like the lives of all men who stop deceiving themselves.
Each man's life represents a road toward himself, (skip) No man has ever been entirely and completely himself. (skip) Each man carries the vestiges of his birth - with him to the end of his days. Some never become human, remaining frog, lizard, ant. Some are human above the waist, fish below. Each represents a gamble on the part of nature in creation of the human. (skip) all of us come in at the same door. But each of us - experiments of the depths - strives toward this own destiny. We can understand one another; but each of us is able to interpret himself to himself alone.
I can only say that he was in every respect different from all the others, was entirely himself, with a personality all this own which made him noticeable even though he did his best not to be noticed;
A stone had been dropped into the well, the well was my youthful soul.
I see him strange, lonely, and silent, wandering among them like a separate planet, surrounded by an aura all his own, a law into himself.
If a person were to concentrate all his power on a certain end, than he would achieve it.
"Clever talk is absolutely worthless. (skip) One has to be able to crawl completely inside oneself, like a tortoise."
The tree does not die. It waits.
I began to sense that this was neither Beatrice nor Demian but myself. Not that the picture resembled me - I did not feel that it should - but it was what determined my life, it was my inner self, my fate or my daemon.
"Fate and temperament are two words for one and the same concept."
It was an accident that this transformation coincided with my parents' and teachers' wishes. This change did not bring me into the community of the others, did not make me closer to anyone, but actually made me eve lonelier. (skip) I could not have uttered a single word about my dreams and expectations, my inner change, to anyone, not even if I had wanted to. But how could I have wanted to?
"The bird fights its way out of the egg. The egg is the world. Who would be born must first destroy a world. The bird flies to God. That God's name is Abraxas."
Only one thing was certain; the voice within me, the dream image. I felt the duty to follow this voice blindly wherever it might lead me. (skip) as other did who knew exactly what they wanted to be - professors, lawyers, doctors, artists, however long this would take them and whatever difficulties and advantages this decision would bear in it wake. This I could not do. (skip) Perhaps I would have to continue my search for years on end and would not become anything, and would not reach a goal. Perhaps I would reach this goal but it would turn out to be an evil, dangerous, horrible one?
I wanted only to try to live in accord with the promptings which came from my true self. Why was that so very difficult?
If you need something desperately and find it, this is not an accident; your own craving and compulsion leads you to it.
Even as a young boy I had been in the habit of gazing at bizarre natural phenomena, not so much observing them as surrendering to their image, their confused, deep language. (skip) water and fire particularly, smoke, clouds, and dust, but most of all the swirling specks of color that swam before my eyes the minute I closed them.
on my table lay a few volumes of Nietzsche. I lived with him, sensed the loneliness of his soul, perceived the fate that had propelled him on inexorably; I suffered with him, and rejoiced that there had been on man who had followed his destiny so relentlessly.
"People that don't follow the herd are rare everywhere. There are some here too."
how remote and dead this world was for me.
why men were so very rarely capable of living for an ideal. Now I saw that many, no, all men were capable of dying of one.
- 나의 자서전인 것처럼, 너무도 같이-
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