‘I looked for an answer to my question. And thought could not give an answer to my question—it is incommensurable with my question. The answer has been given to me by life itself, in my knowledge of what is right and what is wrong. And that knowledge I did not arrive at in any way, it was given to me as to all men, given, because I could not have got it from anywhere.
‘Where could I have got it? By reason could I have arrived at knowing that I must love my neighbor and not oppress him? I was told that in my childhood, and I believed it gladly, for they told me what was already in my soul. But who discovered it? Not reason. Reason discovered the struggle for existence, and the law that requires us to oppress all who hinder the satisfaction of our desires. That is the deduction of reason. But loving one’s neighbor reason could never discover, because it’s irrational.’
Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina
‘And I looked out for miracles, complained that I did not see a miracle which would convince me. A material miracle would have persuaded me. And here is a miracle, the sole miracle possible, continually existing, surrounding me on all sides, and I never noticed it!’
Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina
‘…One must not live for one’s own wants, that is, that one must not live for what we understand, what we are attracted by, what we desire, but must live for something incomprehensible, for God, whom no one can understand nor even define.’
Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina
What was his talent anyway? It was a talent all right but instead of using it, he had traded on it. It was never what he had done, but always what he could do.
Ernest Hemingway, The Snows of Kilimanjaro
He had destroyed his talent himself. Why should he blame this woman because she kept him well? He had destroyed his talent by not using it, by betrayals of himself and what he believed in, by drinking so much that he blunted the edge of his perceptions, by laziness, by sloth, and by snobbery, by pride and by prejudice, by hook and by crook.
Ernest Hemingway, The Snows of Kilimanjaro
That in some way he could work the fat off his soul the way a fighter went into the mountains to work and train in order to burn it out of his body.
Ernest Hemingway, The Snows of Kilimanjaro
But he would never do it, because each day of not writing, of comfort, of being that which he despised, dulled his ability and softened his will to work so that, finally, he did no work at all.
Ernest Hemingway, The Snows of Kilimanjaro
It was not so much that he lied as that there was no truth to tell. He had had his life and it was over and then he went on living it again with different people and more money, with the best of the same places, and some new ones.
Ernest Hemingway, The Snows of Kilimanjaro
It was not her fault that when he went to her he was already over. How could a woman know that you meant nothing that you said; that you spoke only from habit and to be comfortable? After he no longer meant what he said, his lies were more successful with women than when he had told them the truth.
“
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Ernest Hemingway, The Snows of Kilimanjaro
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There are no conditions to which a man cannot become used, especially if he sees that all around him are living in the same way.
“
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Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina
|
‘Men love the Godfather because they feel emasculated by modern society. It’s a fantasy about when they could go out and solve all their problems with violence, and sleep with every woman, and then come home to their wife who doesn’t ask them any questions, and makes them pasta.’
‘Hey, hey, hey, that’s a normal male fantasy.’
‘No, movies like that socialize men into *having* that fantasy.’
‘Movies like that exist because men already *do* have that fantasy—we’re hard wired.’
‘—Comes with the testosterone.’
‘No, gender is a construct. It’s created.’
‘You spent all that money on Stanford, he comes back brainwashed.’
“
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Mike White, The White Lotus (s02e03)
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‘She blows up?’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘Like, she blows up?’
‘Mhm.’
‘It’s a little, tasteless, maybe?’
‘Ah, they’re just trying to make a buck. They own the house where they shot the best American movie ever made.’
‘No it’s not.’
‘No? Why not? I think so.’
‘Well, yeah—you would.’
‘All right what’s that supposed to mean?’
‘It’s because you’re nostalgic for the solid days of the patriarchy.’
‘—They’re undeniably great movies.’
‘Men love the Godfather because they feel emasculated by modern society. It’s a fantasy about when they could go out and solve all their problems with violence, and sleep with every woman, and then come home to their wife who doesn’t ask them any questions, and makes them pasta.’
“
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Mike White, The White Lotus (s02e03)
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‘Is everything boring?’
‘Boring? No.’
‘I just feel like there must have been a time where the world had more. You know? Like, mystery, or something, and now you come somewhere—like this—and you take a picture and it’s beautiful and you realize that everybody’s taken that exact same picture from that exact same spot and you’ve just made some redundant content for Instagram. You can’t even get lost anymore because you can find yourself on Google Maps.’
‘Throw away your phone.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Throw it in the ocean.’
“
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Mike White, The White Lotus (s02e03)
|
Well, it’s run its course. Heroin memoirs are as played out and predictable as Marvel movies at this point.” Tyler didn’t respond, so I continued: “In order to be able to address a subject with authority, it was necessary to become a failure. I could have played the game, been a screenplay hack, done commercial stuff, with all the concomitant climbing and groveling. But I thought it would be more interesting to explore the possibilities of a career in failure, really immerse myself in it, get stuck in, and it has proven to be a rich, fertile and ultimately unrewarding lode. It’s lonely work but somebody has to do it.
For one thing,” I continued, “when I was your age, there was nowhere to publish. The internet has created massive opportunities for the inexperienced and the inept, who start publishing no sooner than they put pen to paper, to facilitate the illusion that they are writers. Nowadays one doesn’t have to prove oneself. There are no standards, there’s no quality control, and there are too many outlets. In order to have something to say I had to do nothing for a long time. I waited a long time, until waiting itself became the subject. And, frankly, it wasn’t worth the wait.