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michael

About Me

Who am I? They often tell me. I stepped from my cell's confinement calmly, cheerfully, firmly, like a Squire from his country house. Who am I? They often tell me. I used to speak to my warders freely and friendly , and clearly, as though it were mine to command. Who am I? They also tell me I bore the days of misfortune equably, smilingly, proudly, like one accustomed to win. Am I then really that which other men tell of? Or am I only what I myself know of myself? Restless and longing and sick, like a bird in a cage, struggling for breath, as though hands were compressing my throat, yearning for colors, for flowers, for the voices of birds, thirsting for words of kindness, for neighborliness, tossing in expectation of great events, powerlessly trembling for friends at an infinite distance, weary and empty at praying, at thinking, at making faint, and ready to say farewell to it all. Who am I? This or the Other? Am I one person today and tomorrow another? Am I both at once? A hypocrite before others, and before myself a contemptible woebegone weakling? Or is something within me still like a beaten army fleeing disorder from victory already achieved? Who am I? They mock me, these lonely questions of mine, Whoever I am, Thou know, O God, I am thine! PERHAPS THE GREATEST IMAGE OF THE PAST YEAR, SIR NILS OLAV A SCOTTISH PENGUIN WAS KNIGHTED BY NORWAY!

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Member Since: 20/03/2006
Influences: “However, in regard to all this, one has to wait for the appearance of individuals who, despite outward gifts, do not choose the broad way but rather the pain, the distress, and the anxiety in which they religiously call to mind what meanwhile they lose, as it were, namely, what is too seductive to possess. Such a struggle is indubitably very exhausting, because there will come moments when they almost regret having begun it and recall with melancholy, at times possibly unto despair, the smiling life that would have opened before them had they pursued the immediate inclination of their talent. Nevertheless, in the extreme terror of distress, when it is as though all were lost because the way along which he would advance is impassible, and the smiling way of talent is cut off from him by his own act, the person who is aware will indubitably hear a voice saying: Well done, my son! Just keep on, for he who loses all, gains all.” -Kierkegaard, The Concept of Anxiety
Sounds Like: Too late have I loved you, O Beauty so ancient and so new, too late have I loved you!Behold, you were within me, while I was outside: it was there that I sought you, and, a deformed creature, rushed headlong upon these things of beauty which you have made. You were within me, but I was not with you. They kept me far from you, those fair things which, if they were not in you, would not exist at all.You have called to me, and have cried out, and have shattered my deafness. You have blazed forth with light, and have shone upon me, and you have put my blindness to flight!You have sent forth fragrance, and I have drawn in my breath, and I pant after you. I have tasted you, and I hunger and thirst after you.You have touched me, and I have burned for your peace. Augustine Confessions
Type of Label: Major

My Blog

kierkegaard: "The Concept of Anxiety" quote

I rarely ever blog or journal or what have you, but this specific snippet from a book entitled The Concept of Anxiety, by Soren Kierkegaard struck me so profoundly that I thought I might share it with...
Posted by on Sun, 30 Mar 2008 19:45:00 GMT