Better to write for yourself and have no public, than to write for the public and have no self.
Cyril Conolly died three decades before Twitter was conceived. And yet, I can’t help but think that he would have echoed the same sentiments today.
Is God willing to prevent evil, but not able? Then he is not omnipotent.
Is he able, but not willing? Then he is malevolent.
Is he both able and willing? Then whence cometh evil?
Is he neither able nor willing? Then why call him God?
— Epicurus, philosopher (c. 341-270 BCE)
Years ago I struggled deeply with the Problem of Evil, i.e. the reconciliation of the existence of evil and suffering with the existence of a benevolent and omnipotent God. At the time, I found Dostoyevski’s novel The Brother’s Karamozov to be a great comfort and insight on the dilemma. I wish I had found Epicurus’ quote earlier in my life. The logic is compelling and impeccable.
The future is not a result of choices among alternative paths offered by the present, but a place that is created—created first in the mind and will, created next in activity. The future is not some place we are going to, but one we are creating. The paths are not to be found, but made, and the activity of making them, changes both the maker and the destination.
Son, we live in a world that has walls and those walls have to be guarded by men with guns. Who’s gonna do it? You? You lieutenant Weinberg? I have a greater responsibility than you can possibly fathom. You weep for Santiago and you curse the marines. You have that luxury. You have the luxury of not knowing what I know, that Santiago’s death, while tragic, probably saved lives. And my existence, while grotesque and incomprehensible to you, saves lives. You don’t want the truth because deep down in places you don’t talk about at parties you want me on that wall. You need me on that wall.
We use words like honor, code, loyalty. We use these words as the backbone of a life spent defending something. You use them as a punch line. I have neither the time nor the inclination to explain myself to a man who rises and sleeps under the blanket of the very freedom that I provide and then questions the manner in which I provide it. I would rather you just said thank you and went on your way. Otherwise I suggest you pick a weapon and stand a post.
— Aaron Sorkin, monologue by Jack Nicholson’s character in A Few Good Men.
No apologies. This quote is simply a guilty pleasure.
In a recent episode of The Treatment, Elvis Mitchel interviews artist and director Julian Schnable. Elvis is struck by the idea that all of Julian’s movies are about artists whose view of the world is not understood by other people and so they are constantly trying to communicate with the world. Elvis says that the movies are ostensibly about art, but they are also movies about communications. They portray figures, who for some reason, can’t get an essential part of themselves communicated through any other means but their art. Julian replies:
Some people walk in the rain. Others just get wet.
— Roger Miller
There are many people who reach their conclusions about life like schoolboys: they cheat their master by copying the answer out of a book without having worked the sum out for themselves.
— Søren Kierkegaard