Paul Will
Paul Will
time real existential
The real nature of the present revealed itself: it was what exists, all that was not present did not exist.
party mean power
What do you want to do with the [Communist] Party? A racing stable? What good is it to sharpen a knife every day if you never useit for slicing? A party is never more than a means. There is only one objective: power.
hate men odd
it was odd, he thought, that a man could hate himself as though he were someone else.
damage harm oneself
One could only damage oneself through the harm one did to others. One could never get directly at oneself.
party men practice
I do not give a damn about the dead. They died for the [Communist] Party and the Party can decide what it wants. I practice a live man's politics, for the living.
morning fifteen next
A human being who wakened in the morning with a queesy stomach, with fifteen hours to kill before next bedtime, had not much use for freedom.
mistake heart reason
Naturally, in the course of my life I have made lots of mistakes, large and small, for one reason or another, but at the heart of it all, every time I made a mistake it was because I was not radical enough.
use alive unbearable
Objects should not touch because they are not alive. You use them, put them back in place, you live among them: they are useful, nothing more. But they touch me, it is unbearable. I am afraid of being in contact with them as though they were living beasts.
existentialism human-nature there-is-no-god
There is no human nature, since there is no god to conceive it.
philosophical sixteen saint
One cannot become a saint when one works sixteen hours a day.
philosophical umpires issues
What do I care about Jupiter? Justice is a human issue, and I do not need a god to teach it to me.
existentialism destruction appropriate
To eat is to appropriate by destruction.
peace war community
Total war is no longer war waged by all members of one national community against all those of another. It is total... because it may well involve the whole world.
years purple oil
I grow warm, I begin to feel happy. There is nothing extraordinary in this, it is a small happiness of Nausea: it spreads at the bottom of the viscous puddle, at the bottom of out time - the time of purple suspenders, and broken chair seats; it is made of white, soft instants, spreading at the edge, like an oil stain. No sooner than born, it is already old, it seems as though I have known it for twenty years.