Paradoksizma and a razmyshlyushka ofParadoxes of the wisdom growing in nonsense
Wisdom of thought it is directly proportional to vital wisdom. The you are younger and sillier, the your thoughts are wiser. The you are more senior and are wiser, the your thoughts are sillier.
We are born eager for knowledge, we grow at clever men, we live wise men, and we die for some reason complete fools.
To pass clever to the chief, it is enough to have one clever subordinate. And to pass clever to the subordinate, there is not enough also three clever chiefs.
The wisest thoughts arrive at dawn, and in already ready look. In the rest of the time it is only necessary to remember and to painfully formulate what hardly remembered then.
The wisest thoughts arrive at dawn, and in already ready look. If I was not lazy and wrote down their every time when they to me are, I would already nakropat the whole book. However, and what I would begin to do with it?
You say that it is not my wise thoughts, but Schopenhauer? Edging? Perhaps Nietzsche? I will tell you more: yes, it is not my thoughts. But also they even not Schopenhauer, not Kant and not Nietzsche.
In life there is a lot of ugly that it is imperceptible. Notice usually what is not evident constantly.
Children are gods of whom parents try to make people (not mine, but also not Schopenhauer).
Presently all lie. Even those who declare that all lie lie.
Actually, English - only primitive and ugly muck. But know about it only those who taught it for many years and, at last, learned. And that, years of laborious work and feeling of own importance do not allow to admit it to them.
If long to watch our television, to read our newspapers and just to lead our life, then the ugliest pictures take quite decent form. The person is so arranged: further to live, it is forced to counterbalance in itself(himself) angry, ugly, black, giving it the form of norm. And over time he ceases to notice that it is only its compelled norm, and not norm natural at all.
In the world everything is vain. But writing of fiction and “other verses“ is especially vain. The vast majority of all literature - utter nonsense for fools. Why so? You will understand when to you knocks sixty and zatoshnit you even from always favourite Shakespeare.
It is considered to be that books - something special without what it is impossible for the educated person in any way. In the life only thousands of books read in six languages to understand that it is a complete nonsense of which widely-read convince unbookish that the last felt the insolvency were enough for me. I know one for certain: would not be in my life of books, I would be much happier.
Who told that the word of the truth will move the world? I said tons of words of the truth, and all of them were gone in emptiness. And here two words of a falsehood made me well-known and dear.
All truthful - always unattractive. Only the lie is beautiful.
It is necessary to read only useful literature.
All essential was told five thousand more years to that. Nothing new, except disguise old, the mankind thought up.
Me quote wise sayings of wise people. Ridiculously, but for some reason my own wise thoughts are presented to me at all not worse. And then, I do not like to read others wise sayings, in bad translation, in the magazine of crossword puzzles and at those who never said them.
My own wise thoughts are presented to me is not worst than other combined at all. One is strange: I already somewhere met them.
A bible maxim “The poor in spirit is blessed“, in my opinion, the majority understands not as follows. And even understanding it “not so“, they understand it so a little. My understanding, it not when “are blissful - the poor in spirit“, and “beggars - spirit are blessed“. That is, beggars are blessed spirit. The poor is full of the Holy Spirit, and those who spirit of niches are not blessed at all. However, most likely, and the poor in spirit is blessed too. The main thing, that pozakovyresty and with a bible shade.
Any movement is silly: thoughts, feelings, bodies - because the final result of any movement - a mistake, nonsense. Any not movement is clever. It is avoidance of mistakes, nonsenses. In other words, mind - is static, nonsense - is fussy. But all paradox is that the silly movement always leads to some progress. Let, to such imperfect. And the clever not movement does not conduct to anything.
Correctness disappears as soon as you begin to prove it. And nonsense raises the head as soon as you begin to fight against it.
It seems to the person that by means of arguments and arguments in dispute he will show the deepest mind. Will quote some philosopher of antiquity, will flaunt some popular wisdom, will mention the famous classic. And meanwhile, the fact that it opened a mouth already speaks not in its advantage.
Seems, nobody noticed. And again, as on - sovkovsk everything left: eighteen years “enjoyed confidence“, and was not absolutely bad business executive, and armfuls received awards. Including from Putin`s hands - Medvedev. And had friends. And suddenly, as if by magic, everything emerged as that, “that does not sink“: both monuments ugly, and millions stole, and in general, not the person, and that, “that does not sink“. On command “face“ the rack of small dogs and court cops started fraying the killed, let not a lion, even not a bear, only the Moscow grown bald beaver, striving to bite more painfully where - nibud in a naked heel.
In Russia still two conditions of the sobered-up Russian soul: love and hatred. And tertium, as always, non datur.
It is necessary to live underestimating the desires. Simplicity of life conducts fortunately. Continuous growth of desires and requirements, on the contrary, leads to the fact that some of them remain unsatisfied, and, therefore there is a nedovypolnennost deposit, and a dissatisfaction though forces on performance of “the twenty first requirement“ can already not remain.
Himself needs to learn to look under legs and up, over the head. The one who does not notice pools under legs and stars over the head, as a rule, and will not notice the blue sea and the same blue sky.
The one who is not able to close eyes to misfortune will never be really happy.
The one who will not learn to close eyes to misfortunes of others will never be really happy.
To the world on you to spit. So why you have to suffer all life from - for its imperfections? Let slides though in depths of hell.
I began to feel happy when I was a child and did not notice all uglinesses of the world. Then, having learned to distinguish them, I became extremely unhappy. Now I learn not to notice them again, and the feeling of happiness to me comes back again.
What to us put to those who in thousands perish on wars of the world? What business to those who are tormented turn out, deprive of food? What business to millions of tortured mammals, birds, insects? To the perishing woods, the disappearing seas, the drying-up rivers? We are happy only when are blind, deaf and ignorant. Happiness - in ignorance.
God is. But it at all not such, what we it to uyavlyay. And, of course, there is a continuation of our ekzistention, existence of our soul. Everything is simple: just our five sense organs cannot give us even an approximate idea of the one who is god, what he and what waits for us after death. Just because the sixth, seventh, twentieth sense for this purpose is required. We - as bees at whom we select honey, and they do not even suspect about our existence. Exclusively.
Morals and morality - the invention human. Who told that it is bad to live together with foreign wife? It can be bad from the point of view of the standard hypocritical morals - no more and not less. Cast away it - and you will find freedom. You will find freedom - you will find happiness.
The person suffers at all not from the fact that he is ugly, small growth, is poor, silly, has no car, does not speak in English, does not earn one thousand evrik. And the person is unfortunate only from - for the fact that think of him when it: it is ugly, small growth, it is poor, silly, has no car, does not speak in English, does not earn one thousand evrik.
When I houses, in the old, rumpled undershirt, am unshaven and I will stoop, I sneeze aloud and also I start up winds, is clumsy and sluggish, I, despite all listed shortcomings, am happier, than when I am dressed in the English tweed suit, is smoothly shaved and I smell of eau de toilet, imposingly I walk along a corridor and sedately I give bows. Because in the first case I dare to be myself, and in the second I impose to myself to be someone else.