The Pages
Page 16
Some emotions have no name.
Grief and melancholy are bodily functions. The woman weeps on a park bench. Love between two people is never equal. Love – a confusion. Loss is the greater one. We should never be surprised at our own emotions. Because of the emotions we can never really know the other person. We assume too much of ourselves and others. Memory – an interference. To let down, to be let down. Turning away.
Landscape and thought. It was cold in Germany. To be isolated and mind-cold.
By then I wanted, more than anything, numbness.
I may have had some sort of breakdown.
We are passive; only to a small extent can we be powerful.
How to remove subjectivity from thought-thinking.
The effort of moving towards a philosophy becomes itself the philosophy.
Love is a recognition of unbalanced affinities. See the uneven harmonies in nature.
‘This creeping psychoanalysis of ordinary conduct.’
The vague and undefined needs of one mean a reduction in the other.
It is all given shape and described by words.
To live simply and quietly is almost a philosophy.
By keeping separate from people, I thought I could get on with my work.
We are philosophers; we cannot help being.