What a strange coincidence. Jane is a fictional character.
Jane Parker met her man quite early in life and spent a significant time in his presence, being dependent on him for her survival. This created a bond in her mind, a very persistent bond because of the amount and intensity of time she spent being around her man. If Jane would have spent her years in the presence of many men, she'd not have developed this kind of bond to any of them.
Edgar Rice Burroughs, The Return of Tarzan wrote:
“...my civilization is not even skin deep - it does not go deeper than my clothes.”
Does he think what I am thinking? That modern, civilized, man has become a sham.
It may be said that natural selection is daily and hourly scrutinizing, throughout the world, every variation, even the slightest; rejecting that which is bad, preserving and adding up all that is good; silently and insensibly working, whenever and wherever opportunity offers, at the improvement of each organic being in relation to its organic and inorganic conditions of life. We see nothing of these slow changes in progress, until the hand of time has marked the long lapse of ages, and then so imperfect is our view into the long past geological ages, that we only see that the forms of life are now different from what they formerly were.
Satyr Daemon
Gender : Posts : 37187 Join date : 2009-08-24 Age : 58 Location : Hyperborea
Beware of the "teachers" who offer "truth" - especially of the absolute kind. They are priests, or minions of the Book, for the Book, by the Book. The language changes but the message, hidden in the medium, remains the same.
_________________ γνῶθι σεαυτόν μηδέν άγαν
Hrodeberto
Gender : Posts : 1318 Join date : 2014-07-14 Age : 37 Location : Spaces
If thou wouldst fight the enemy, begin by understanding him, Thou wilt conquer the dragon only by penetrating his skin. As to the bull, thou must seize him by the horns. It is in the extremity of distress that thou wilt find thy weapons and thy brothers in the fight. I have shown thee who thou art, now go — and be thyself!
_________________ Life has a twisted sense of humour, doesn't it. . . .
* * *
Anfang
Gender : Posts : 3989 Join date : 2013-01-23 Age : 40 Location : Castra Alpine Grug
Jack Beauregard: Folks that throw dirt on you aren't always trying to hurt you, and folks that pull you out of a jam aren't always trying to help you. But the main point is when you're up to your nose in shit, keep your mouth shut.
Jack Beauregard: You're sure trying hard to make a hero out of me. Nobody: You're that already. You just need a special act, something that'll make your name a legend. Jack Beauregard: What I don't understand is what difference it makes to you. Nobody: If a man is a man, he needs someone to believe in. Jack Beauregard: I've met all kinds in my life. Thieves and killers. Pimps and prostitutes. Con men and preachers. Even a few fellas that told the truth. The kind of man you're talking about, never. Nobody: Maybe you've never met them. Or hardly ever. But they're the only ones who count.
Jack Beauregard: You shine like the door of a whorehouse. A blind man could spot you ten miles off. Nobody: I like folks to see me. Jack Beauregard: Maybe folks don't share your pleasure.
Jack Beauregard: Son, let me give you a little advice. You start admiring someone, pretty soon you're envious so you start showing off, taking chances. Before you know it, you're dead. Nobody: Well, it ain't good for some folks to live too long.
Jack Beauregard: You keep turn' your back to me. Seems like you trust me too much… Or maybe you trust yourself too much.
Hrodeberto
Gender : Posts : 1318 Join date : 2014-07-14 Age : 37 Location : Spaces
"Electricity banished shadows—but shadows are “shades,” souls, the souls of light itself. Even divine light, when it loses its organic and secret darkness, becomes a form of pollution. In prison cells electric lights are never doused; light becomes oppression and source of disease." [Hakim Bey]
"All is consumed: news, personalities, philosophy, stories, these are all intended as feathers in a peacock’s tail, but this peacock isn’t trying to signal for reproductive purposes. It’s an absurdity, a symbol that has forgotten its meaning. Simulacra is the endpoint of a society that has become so interested in gazing upon itself in the mirror that it chokes to death on its own self-congratulation." [Bryce Laliberte]
Wenn der Hans sich zu der Gretel nachts im dunklen Garte' schleicht macht er nicht erst viel Gerede weil man damit nichts erreicht.
Hin und her wandert er mit der Gretel längst nicht mehr Hin und her wandert er mit der Gretel längst nicht mehr
Hat sie in den Busch gezogen und belogen und betrogen schwört er ihr beim Mondenscheine, was die Grete glaubt alleine....
-> When Hans is sneaking in the night, in the dark garden, to meet Gretel then he's not talking much about because he knows that he gets nowhere with that.
Back and forth is he walking with Gretel not anymore. -"-
Pulled her into the bushes lied to her, betrayed her, is swearing to her by the moonshine what Gretel wants to believe alone...
Lyssa Har Har Harr
Gender : Posts : 8965 Join date : 2012-03-01 Location : The Cockpit
"Another Englishman who had hanged himself, on being cut down by his servant not only regained the desire to live but also the disease of avarice; for when discharging the servant, he deducted twopence from his wages because the man had acted without instructions in cutting the rope with which his master had hanged himself."
"Most people, in this society, genuinely believe in their hearts that making things more equal makes them better. I believe the opposite, I believe it makes them worse. I believe that making things more unequal makes them better, because you increase the possibilities for transcendence."-Jonathan Bowden
Lyssa Har Har Harr
Gender : Posts : 8965 Join date : 2012-03-01 Location : The Cockpit
"It is very certain that it is the effect of conversation with the beauty of the soul, to beget a desire and need to impart to others the same knowledge and love. If utterance is denied, the thought lies like a burden on the man. Always the seer is a sayer. Somehow his dream is told: somehow he publishes it with solemn joy: sometimes with pencil on canvas; sometimes with chisel on stone; sometimes in towers and aisles of granite, his soul's worship is builded; sometimes in anthems of indefinite music; but clearest and most permanent, in words."
The individual of small soul and limited horizon lives for himself because he understands nothing else. To such a man Western music is merely an alternate up and down, loud and soft, philosophy is mere words, history is a collection of fairy-tales, even the reality of which is not inwardly felt, politics is the selfishness of the great, military conscription a burden which his lack of moral courage forces him to accept. Thus even his individualism is a mere denial of anything higher, and not an affirming of his own soul. The extraordinary man is the one who puts something else before his own life and security. Even as he faced the firing squad, William Walker could have saved his life by merely renouncing his claim to President of Nicaragua. To the common man, this is insane. The common man is unjust, but not on principle; he is selfish, but is incapable of the imperative of Ibsen’s exalted selfishness; he is the slave of his passions, but incapable of higher sexual love, for even this is an expression of Culture — primitive man simply would not understand Western erotic if it were explained to him, this sublimation of passion into metaphysics. He lacks any sort of honor, and will submit to any humiliation rather than revolt — it is always leader-natures who revolt. He gambles in the hope of winning, and if he loses, he whimpers. He would rather live on his knees than die on his feet. He accepts the loudest voice as the true one. He follows the leader of the moment — but only so far, and when the leader is eclipsed by a new one, he points out his record of opposition. In victory he is a bully, in defeat he is a lackey. His talk is big, his deeds small. He likes to play, but has no sportsmanship. Great thoughts and plans he castigates as “megalomania.” Anyone who tries to pull him up and along the road of higher accomplishment he hates, and when the chance offers, he crucifies him, like Christ, burns him, like Savonarola, kicks his dead body in the square in Milan. He is always laughing at the discomfiture of another, but he has no sense of humor, and is equally incapable of true seriousness. He denounces the crime of passion, but eagerly reads the literature of such crimes. He herds in the street to see an accident, and enjoys seeing another sustain the blows of fate. He does not care if his countrymen are spilling their blood as long as he is secure. He is everything mean and unheroic, but he lacks the mentality to be Iago or Richard III. He has no access to Culture, and, when he dares, he persecutes anyone who has. Nothing delights him more than to see a great leader fall. He hated Metternich and Wellington, the symbols of Tradition, he refused, as Reichstag, to send ex-Chancellor Bismarck a birthday greeting. He makes up the constituency of all parliaments everywhere, and he invades all councils-of-war to advise prudence and caution. If beliefs to which he was committed become dangerous, he recants — they were never his anyway. He is the inner weakness of every organism, the enemy of all greatness, the material of treason.
Yockey wrote:
Liberalism is an escape from hardness into softness, from masculinity into femininity, from History to herd-grazing, from reality into herbivorous dreams, from Destiny into Happiness. Nietzsche, in his last and greatest work, designated the 18th century as the century of feminism, and immediately mentioned Rousseau, the leader of the mass-escape from Reality. Feminism itself — what is it but a means of feminizing man? If it makes women man-like, it does so only by transforming man first into a creature whose only concern is with his personal economics and his relation to “society,” i.e., a woman. “Society” is the element of woman, it is static and formal, its contests are purely personal, and are free from the possibility of heroism and violence. Conversation, not action; formality, not deeds. How different is the idea of rank used in connection with a social affair, from when it is applied on a battlefield! In the field, it is fate-laden; in the salon it is vain and pompous. A war is fought for control, social contests are inspired by feminine vanity and jealousy to show that one is “better” than someone else.
The constancy of the philosophers was due entirely to the inevitability of death. They believed that a journey that could not be prevented should be undertaken with a good grace; and not being able to perpetuate their lives for all time, they did their utmost to perpetuate their reputations and save from the wreck something that they could not be sure of saving. To look on the bright side of things, let us be content not to tell ourselves all that we think on the subject, and let us trust more in our own character than in the weak arguments that claim we can approach death with indifference. The glory of dying with strength of character, the hope of being missed, the desire to leave behind a good reputation, the assurance of being set free from the sufferings of life and no longer being subject to the whims of fortune––these things are remedies that should not be disregarded. Yet neither should we think that they are infallible. They give us the kind of reassurance that a simple hedge often does in wartime, when it reassures those who need to approach the enemy’s fire. When you are far away from it, you imagine that it could provide cover; but when you are close to it, you find that it offers little protection. We flatter ourselves if we think that death will seem the same at close range as we judged it to be from afar, and that our personal feelings, which are mere weakness, will be strong enough to be unaffected by this most severe of all trials.
Anfang
Gender : Posts : 3989 Join date : 2013-01-23 Age : 40 Location : Castra Alpine Grug
Basically you're falling victim to conflating the Kamakura era-- where our evidence is largely from war epics like Tales of the Heike, and the one-on-one style of horse archery duels is what you see-- with the sengoku era. They're 400 years apart. By the Sengoku, ashigaru became much more important. One thing to remember is that in the real world, the difference between "ashigaru" and "samurai" was often very fuzzy. To fill the large, yari-toting infantry formations, they needed manpower. There weren't enough samurai (land owners) to do it, so peasants joining the army seasonally were one of the primary sources of troops. The largest example is Toyotomi Hideyoshi, who started as an Ashigaru but was the second of the "great Unifiers" (of course, he was also the one to initiate the sword hunt, and force all daimyo to decide which of their retainers was samurai and which was peasant, and make sure that none of the peasants were armed).
Katana samurai are inaccurate, because they would be ineffective. Katana were carried as sidearms, but especially when you're in a tightly packed formation with 10,000 of your closest friends, the yari is far preferable to a katana. The katana became important afterwards, in the Edo period, when all samurai had to do was sit around and think about how awesome it was to be a warrior (even though they personally had never fought in a war), and get into street fights. When the most battle you'll ever see is five of your buddies stumbling out of a bar into some other jerks, a katana is way more useful than a yari.. thus, it became the "soul of the samurai."
Anfang
Gender : Posts : 3989 Join date : 2013-01-23 Age : 40 Location : Castra Alpine Grug
Ludwig Klages, Cosmogonic Reflections, #121 wrote:
Formula for the Ethos of Character. The egoist: I will. The altruist: I shall. The sentimentalist: you will. The ascetic: he wills (I must). Animal man: it wills (I must). Elemental man: it happens (I must).
Anfang
Gender : Posts : 3989 Join date : 2013-01-23 Age : 40 Location : Castra Alpine Grug
_________________ 1. "Youth, oh, youth! | of whom then, youth, art thou born? Say whose son thou art, Who in Fafnir's blood | thy bright blade reddened, And struck thy sword to my heart."
2. "The Noble Hart | my name, and I go A motherless man abroad; Father I had not, | as others have, And lonely ever I live."
I haven't read this yet, but I like this quote from Lampedusa’s “The Leopard”
Quote :
“One of them asked me what these free soldiers truly wanted here in Sicily. ‘They are coming to teach us good manners’, I answered. ‘But they won’t succeed, because we are gods.’ You want to teach us good manners, but you will not complete this mission, because we are gods. I do not believe that they understood the joke, but they laughed and went away.
So I answer you too, dear Chevalley: the Sicilians most certainly do not want things to get better, for the simple reason that they believe they are consummate.”
_________________ And here we always meet, at the station of our heart / Looking at each other as if we were in a dream /Seeing for the first time different eyes so supreme / That bright flames burst into vision, keeping us apart.
Hrodeberto
Gender : Posts : 1318 Join date : 2014-07-14 Age : 37 Location : Spaces
