Desiring that and chipping away at that which I have chosen to term myself. "Ideally the emotions ought to be subject to the reason, but in fact through them the flesh and the material world are able to influence and sway the reason, resulting in sin and suffering. ...ideal of, as far as possible, to the divine apatheia...there is also a sense in which the idea of divine apatheia is, in its own way, ...the image of pure reason, abstracted from the human body and from the emotional aspects of human psychology, and it does so because this pure reason is what the thinker himself aspires to be....At its best, the notion of divine and human apatheia as a moral ideal suggested moral constancy, in which the will is able to maintain its loving purpose without being deflected."
Clyde Shelton: I'm at war with this Clyde Shelton: . This, this broken thing. This thing that brought you and I together. Nick Rice: This broken thing works for people that are sane. You think doing what you're doing is going change anything? You and whoever else you have helping you, are gonna pay. Clyde Shelton: I don't think you have any idea who's helping me, or what I'm doing. Nick Rice: It's a matter of time. Clyde Shelton: You see the bodies, you see the smoke. But the larger picture still eludes you.
"Which path should I take?" he asked. "Which one is safe?" "Take one, and you cannot take the other," she said. "But neither path is safe. Which way would you walk â€” the way of hard truths or the way of fine lies?" "Truths," he said. "I've come too far for more lies." She looked sad. "There will be a price, then," she said. -Shadow & Zorya Polunochnaya
No man amongst you is fit to judge... the mighty art that I have wrought. Your rituals are empty oaths you neither understand nor live by. The Great Architect speaks to me. He is the balance where my deeds are weighed and judged... not you. - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Yo9zPfmVEc ... I walked down to a river and sat in reflection of what had to be done... An offering of crimson flowed into the water below, A wound of spirit from which it floated and faded away... like every hope I've ever had, like every dream I've ever known... It washed away in a tide of longing, a longing for a better world... From my will, my throat, to the river, and into the sea. . . wash away. . . ..... fade ... away ...