hum

Musica est exercitium arithmeticae occultum nescientis se numerare animi

There lived in the neighbourhood a very famous dervish, who passed for the greatest philosopher in Turkey. They went to consult him. Pangloss acted as their spokesman and said to him:
“Master, we have come to ask you to tell us why such a strange animal as man was created.”
“What’s that to you?” said the dervish. “Is it any of your business?”
“But, reverend father,” said Candide, “there’s an awful lot of evil in the world.”
“What does it matter whether there’s evil or there’s good?” said the dervish. “When His Highness sends a ship to Egypt, does he worry whether the mice on board are comfortable or not?”
“So what must we do then?” said Pangloss.
“Be silent,” said the dervish.
“I had flattered myself”, said Pangloss, “that we might have a talk about effect and causes, the best of all possible worlds, the origin of evil, the nature of the soul, and pre-established harmony.”
The dervish, at these words, slammed the door in their faces.

Voltaire
Candide

The past makes
no difference, the
future makes no
sense, the time
is always now

Western intellectuals are all sitting-addicts. That’s why most of you are so repulsively unwholesome. In the past even a duke had to do a lot of walking, even a moneylender, even a metaphysician. And when they weren’t using their legs, they were jogging about on horses. Whereas now, from the tycoon to his typist, from the logical positivist to the positive thinker, you spend nine tenths of your time on foam rubber. Spongy seats for spongy bottoms—at home, in the office, in cars and bars, in planes and trains and buses. No moving of legs, no struggles with distance and gravity—just lifts and planes and cars, just foam rubber and an eternity of sitting. The life force that used to find an outlet through striped muscle gets turned back on the viscera and the nervous system, and slowly destroys them.

Attacked and robbed
by a gang
at first ashamed
then almost righteous
To celebrate my
lucky escape I
made love to
my smiling self

Then came my birthday. As a rule I am always away on my birthday, but I did not feel altogether well. So I stayed at home, and went to town as usual in the morning to talk with the doctor, since I had thought of celebrating my birthday with something new, never having tasted castor oil before. Right outside my door on the pavement, she runs into me, just before the avenue. As so frequently happens of late, I cannot help smiling when I see her—ah! how much she has come to mean to me!—She smiled back and then nodded a greeting. I took a step past her, then raised my hat, and walked on. […]

The knight does not annul his resignation, he preserves his love just as young as it was in its first moment, he never lets it go from him, precisely because he makes the movements infinitely. What the princess does, cannot disturb him, it is only the lower natures which find in other people the law for their actions, which find the premises for their actions outside themselves. If on the other hand the princess is like-minded, the beautiful consequence will be apparent. She will introduce herself into that order of knighthood into which one is not received by balloting, but of which everyone is a member who has courage to introduce himself, that order of knighthood which proves its immortality by the fact that it makes no distinction between man and woman. The two will preserve their love young and sound, she also will have triumphed over her pains, even though she does not, as it is said in the ballad, “lie every night beside her lord.” These two will to all eternity remain in agreement with one another, with a well-timed harmonia praestabilita, so that if ever the moment were to come, the moment which does not, however, concern them finitely (for then they would be growing older), if ever the moment were to come which offered to give love its expression in time, then they will be capable of beginning precisely at the point where they would have begun if originally they had been united.

Fill your ears
with silence, with
the emptiness of
the sky fill
your eyes and
remembering that you
are nothing think
of absolutely nothing

Most people live dejectedly in worldly sorrow and joy; they are the ones who sit along the wall and do not join in the dance. The knights of infinity are dancers and possess elevation. They make the movements upward, and fall down again; and this too is no mean pastime, nor ungraceful to behold. But whenever they fall down they are not able at once to assume the posture, they vacillate an instant, and this vacillation shows that after all they are strangers in the world. This is more or less strikingly evident in proportion to the art they possess, but even the most artistic knights cannot altogether conceal this vacillation. One need not look at them when they are up in the air, but only the instant they touch or have touched the ground – then one recognizes them. But to be able to fall down in such a way that the same second it looks as if one were standing and walking, to transform the leap of life into a walk, absolutely to express the sublime in the pedestrian – that only the knight of faith can do – and this is the one and only prodigy.