ITT favorite quotes and their authors

Just post on Veeky Forums, it is easier.

Alright alright, I guess my point is that I get annoyed when people try to imply that DFW or Hemingway killed themselves because they were "too attuned to the sensitive beauty and pain of the world" or whatever

That's not suicide because of "muh feels," that's suicide to avoid turning into a vegetable, which seems pretty reasonable to me

>it took this many posts for someone to point out that it's John Green

Hoagy hardly drank himself to death, he was 82. Are you thinking of Bix Biederbecke?

with Hemingway there was a genetic predisposition to suicide in male members of his family too.

>There will come a time when there are no human beings remaining to remember that anyone ever existed or that our species ever did anything.
its like my nigga hasnt even seen neon genesis evangelion

“You are confident that then man will cease from INTENTIONAL error and will, so to say, be compelled not to want to set his will against his normal interests. That is not all; then, you say, science itself will teach man (though to my mind it's a superfluous luxury) that he never has really had any caprice or will of his own, and that he himself is something of the nature of a piano-key or the stop of an organ, and that there are, besides, things called the laws of nature; so that everything he does is not done by his willing it, but is done of itself, by the laws of nature. Consequently we have only to discover these laws of nature, and man will no longer have to answer for his actions and life will become exceedingly easy for him. All human actions will then, of course, be tabulated according to these laws, mathematically, like tables of logarithms up to 108,000, and entered in an index; or, better still, there would be published certain edifying works of the nature of encyclopaedic lexicons, in which everything will be so clearly calculated and explained that there will be no more incidents or adventures in the world.”

Dostoyevsky “Notes from the Underground.”

this. maudlinism w/ arrogance

Have you seen Gunbuster? I highly recommend it. It's a work Anno did before EVA, and it has a lot of the same themes. His genius is there, anyway.

Hey WAIT A FUCKING SECOND this is John Green

And here I was thinking my boy David was responsible for this cheese

“The more you praise and celebrate your life, the more there is in life to celebrate.”
- Hemingway

His neurological problems were probably a result of haemochromatosis.

I appreciate these posts. You're a comforting reassurance that there are able-minded people yet living.

"...and so on in a self-reinforcing loop until splat! go your brains all over the walls."

J. L. Austin

David looks mortified in that OP. He got pretty desperate. This is a good one from around the end there: I like to think of fire held in a man's hand. Fire, a dangerous force, tamed at his fingertips. I often wonder about the hours when a man sits alone, watching the smoke of a cigarette, thinking. I wonder what great things have come from such hours. When a man thinks, there is a spot of fire alive in his mind--and it is proper that he should have the burning point of a cigarette as his one expression.

This Is Fire

Holy fuck-- did his bandana grow bigger before that photo was taken???

DFW WROTE LIKE *THAT*? I DIDN'T THINK HE WAS THAT GOOD
i'm going to give him a try after this

It's John Green. OP is a troll.

I looked it up and it says it's often attributed to both of them. sorry but it looks like OP was telling the truth

...

You either haven't read DFW's work, haven't experienced depression firsthand, or probably both. He was exceedingly aware of how depression affects you, both clinically and spiritually, and wrote about it many times (see "The Depressed Person", Kate Gompert chapters from Infinite Jest, etc.), yet he still made the choice to kill himself. That should speak volumes about how much he was actually suffering. No, he was not "too dumb to understand."

Side by side with the human race there runs
another race of beings, the inhuman ones, the race of artists who, goaded by
unknown impulses, take the listless mass of humanity and by the fever and
ferment with which they imbue it turn this soggy dough into bread and the
bread into wine and the wine into song. Out of the dead compost and the inert
slag they breed a song that contaminates. I see this other race of
individuals ransacking the universe, turning everything upside down, their
feet always moving in blood and tears, their hands always empty, always
clutching and grasping for the beyond, for the god out of reach: slaying
everything within reach in order to quiet the monster that gnaws at their
vitals. I see that when they tear hair with the effort to comprehend, to
seize this, forever unattainable, I see that when they bellow like crazed
beasts and rip and gore, I see that this is right, that there is no other
path to pursue. A man who belongs to this race must stand up on the high
place with gibberish in his mouth and rip out his entrails. It is right and
just, because he must! And anything that falls short of this frightening
spectacle, anything less shuddering, less terrifying, less mad, less
intoxicated, less contaminating, is not art. The rest is counterfeit. The
rest is human. The rest belongs to life and lifelessness.