Life is a small circle. It is so small that sometimes you will actually be surprised by how little you can say about IT.
If there is such a thing we can rightly describe as a progress at all, it will be the achievement inside, the realization that you may attain about yourself, about the limitation of your own ability and capability.
Consciousness is a moral concept. It always comes with an ought, a conception of who one is, something that always comes with a shame, a guilt or a lie.
How to live another day without deceiving yourself? That's a serious question.
A person who has been exposed to philosophy may deceive himself into thinking that what he cares most about is not being self-deceiving, while what he actually cares about is being perceived as a philosopher who cares most about not being self-deceiving.
回覆刪除By the way, I know someone who wrote a dissertation on self-deception, and he is the most self-deceiving person I know.
just stop talking about living another day without deceiving yourself and live another day without deceiving yourself
回覆刪除第一次覺得神的話是對的！
回覆刪除I don't care if willsin, 神 and W.Wong live a self-deceiving life. ;p
回覆刪除- Nana
You are writing in a Nietzschean tone!
回覆刪除1. People may deceive themselves.
回覆刪除2. Those who talk about self-deception may be deceiving themselves, too.
3. Those who talk about people who talk about self-deception may be deceiving themselves, too.
4. Those who suggest others not talk about self-deception may be deceiving themselves, too.
5. Talk or not talk about self-deception I think is not an issue.
"Talk or not talk about self-deception I think is not an issue."
回覆刪除- It depends. For some people, the more they talk about not being self-deceiving, the more likely that they will think they themselves are not self-deceiving.
I
回覆刪除in the end
one experiences only oneself
- nietzsche
II
there was a child went forth every day
and the first object he look’d upon
that object he became
and that object became part of him for the day
or a certain part of the day
or for many years
or stretching cycles of years
-whitman
原詩