#The philospher

[thedigeridontt]

They should make a sleepy lane so people can sleep while driving

[asmund-scion-of-ice]

[lgist]

Doors.

In front of you stands two doors, behind one, the life you dream of, behind the other, peril. How you can stand there, wilting away, hovering your hand above the knob before quickly retreating, to safety. You’ll linger there, for time, questioning the rationale, comfortable on the other side of risk. “Why, I’ll just stay here” you repeat to yourself, as the safety is overbearing, it whispers lies, its secret in discontent. Your mind races, with possibility, it's naturally curious, it wonders, ponders and creates scenarios. You’re growing bored here, its sanitary outlook washing over any sense of play, the dullness creeping up on you as you forget what color feels like, on your skin, so the mind imagines, it will fill in these blanks, that were so willfully colored for you, with crayons. You’ve run out, the time has come, should you stay or should you go? 

Why must it be so difficult? What brought you here? Which amalgamation of choices has willed you to a clandestine choice, a choice that is only yours. Choice is scary, with an equal opportunity to ruin your life as it does amplify it. We have grown accustomed to choice, we call it preference, I chose vanilla over chocolate, I chose to wake up early this morning, I chose to sleep in. I chose to live, I chose to die, how quickly choice can escalate, from the mundane to life altering, in any sense. Our choices, while they might be our own, affect everything around us, just as the butterfly chose to flap its wings. Who do you love? Why do you love them? What made you love them? Who do you hate? Why do you hate them? What made you hate them?

Choice is blind, it has its own scales, like justice, it must be balanced, for what you seek to gain can equally be lost, according to choice. 

So we hesitate, staring at these doors, knowing what it means to decide to take the first step. Here we are introduced to Choice’s offspring, risk. Risk stems from choice, it is the tranquilizer, how it can strip your movement, and make you a statue. Too nervous to move, too comfortable for the potential of sacrifice. It is here, you’d feel a gentle pat on the back, as it urges you to move. It asks you, do you wish to die here? For that is the third choice, you either walk through door one, door two, or you don’t move, you boil away the rest of it and that’s all you have left, it reminds you. It asks do you fear the unknown more than you fear being stuck? Is this really where you want to die? Have you given the most you can? Have you lived to the fullest, truly, unless you know what waits behind one of these doors? Endless, it's almost tormenting you, mocking your decision to stay here, like a roommate who's sick of your habits and holds an intervention. It is here, life will give you an intervention, it will laugh at you, ridicule you, completely break you, for choosing to stay here. Your mind internalizes this, it believes it, so you become depressed, unable to move, unable to take a step in the right direction, unable to think yourself worthy of moving on. 

Withered away, you’ve become a skeleton, did you die with regrets? Did you die wondering what’s behind those damn doors? Did you die peacefully, with a quiet mind? Did you die with your hand on the knob? Did you decide to move too late? Only you know, or you will know, should you decide to stay here, staring at endless possibilities, literally at your fingertips. A stagnant life is what awaits you here, a pointless existence, where you have nothing to show, where you will be haunted by the decisions you didn’t make, rather than the ones you did. Justified in your comfort, you have successfully thwarted risk, and given the middle finger to choice, now you must pay the price, as you close your eyes in this dark, antiquated, cold room. 

Unknowing of the warmth of winning, unknowing of the bitterness of losing, and of the conclusions these doors had in store for you, both good and bad. I think it’s better knowing, rather than dying in cold comfort, don’t you?

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Felt Inspired.

As always….

Much Love - S

[levforfakes]

you mean literally just remus

[unvexes]

but friend, this cage is inside out.

[zorbs64]

did this after crying at rocks (finished the manga)

[ne7]

Smug Helios

Should've been me

[muchmossymess]

hmmm thinking about what would have happened if Father had gone after lan fan and her philosophers stone rather than greedling

[not-a-nice-man-to-know]

At 40, Franz Kafka (1883-1924), who never married and had no children, walked through the park in Berlin when he met a girl who was crying because she had lost her favourite doll. She and Kafka searched for the doll unsuccessfully.

Kafka told her to meet him there the next day and they would come back to look for her.

The next day, when they had not yet found the doll, Kafka gave the girl a letter "written" by the doll saying "please don't cry. I took a trip to see the world. I will write to you about my adventures."

Thus began a story which continued until the end of Kafka's life.

During their meetings, Kafka read the letters of the doll carefully written with adventures and conversations that the girl found adorable.

Finally, Kafka brought back the doll (she bought one) that had returned to Berlin.

"It doesn't look like my doll at all," said the girl.

Kafka handed her another letter in which the doll wrote: "my travels have changed me." the little girl hugged the new doll and brought her happy home.

A year later Kafka died.

Many years later, the now-adult girl found a letter inside the doll. In the tiny letter signed by Kafka it was written:

"Everything you love will probably be lost, but in the end, love will return in another way."

- Franz Kafka

[galleryofart]

Diogenes

Artist: John William Waterhouse (English, 1849-1917)

Style: Academic

Date: 1882

Medium: Oil on canvas

Collection: Art Gallery of NSW, Sydney, Australia

Diogenes the Cynic

Diogenes, also known as Diogenes the Cynic or Diogenes of Sinope, was a Greek philosopher and one of the founders of Cynicism. He was born in Sinope, an Ionian colony on the Black Sea coast of Anatolia, in 412 or 404 BC and died at Corinth in 323 BC.

Diogenes of Sinope is too irascible a character not to share some anecdotes about him from the compendium of Diogenes Laertius on the Lives of the Eminent Philosophers. They illustrate the precepts by which he lived: that personal happiness is satisfied by meeting one's natural needs and that what is natural cannot be shameful or indecent. His life, therefore, was lived with extreme simplicity, inured to want, and without shame. It was this determination to follow his own dictates and not adhere to the conventions of society that he was given the epithet "dog," from which the name "cynic" is derived. (As to why he was called a dog, Diogenes replied, "Because I fawn upon those who give me anything, and bark at those who give me nothing, and bite the rogues.") Sold as a slave, he pointed and said, "Sell me to this man; he needs a master." The man heeded the advice, and entrusted Diogenes with his household and the education of his children.

Seeing a child drinking from his hands, Diogenes threw away his cup and remarked, "A child has beaten me in plainness of living." When invited to the house of Plato, he trampled upon his carpet, saying that he thereby trampled on the vanity of Plato, to which Plato retorted "How much pride you expose to view, Diogenes, by seeming not to be proud." To Plato's definition of a man as an animal, bipedal and featherless, Diogenes plucked a chicken and declared, "Here is Plato's man."

Alexander the Great was reported to have said, "Had I not been Alexander, I should have liked to be Diogenes." Once, while Diogenes was sunning himself, Alexander came up to him and offered to grant him any request. "Stand out of my light," he replied. (There are many other references to this incident, principally Plutarch, Life of Alexander, XIV.1–5.) When asked why he went about with a lamp in broad daylight, Diogenes confessed, "I am looking for a [honest] man." Seeing a young man blush, he remarked that it was the complexion of virtue.

Why do people give to beggars, he was asked, but not to philosophers? "Because they think they may one day be lame or blind, but never expect that they will turn to philosophy." To a young man who complained that he was ill suited to study philosophy, Diogenes said "Why then do you live, if you do not care to live well?" Of grammarians, he was astonished that they desire to learn everything about the misfortunes of Odysseus but nothing about their own. Of mathematicians, that they keep their eyes on the heavens and overlook what is at their feet. Of orators, that they speak of justice but never practice it. When asked why he alone praised an indifferent harp player, Diogenes replied "because he plays the harp and does not steal."

When asked what wine he found most pleasant to drink, Diogenes replied, "That for which other people pay." Once, eating some dried figs, he offered some to Plato, which prompted Diogenes to remonstrate "I said that you might have a share of them, not that you might eat them all." As to when was the proper time to eat, he replied that for the rich, whenever one pleases; for the poor, whenever one can. Asked why he begged in front of a statue, Diogenes replied that he did so to get used to being refused. Reproached for behaving indecently in public, he lamented only that he wished it were as easy to relieve hunger by rubbing one's stomach. And criticized for drinking in a tavern, he said that he also had his hair cut in a barber's shop.

Of the golden statue of Phrynê at Delphi, Diogenes was said to have written upon it: "From the licentiousness of Greece." And, when he saw the child of a courtesan, whom he compared to a "deadly honeyed potion," throwing stones at a crowd, he cried out: "Take care you don't hit your father." Seeing a bad archer, he sat down beside the target so get out of harm's way. When asked when a man should marry, he replied that a young man ought not to marry just yet and an old man not at all. Asked why he anointed his feet with scent, he replied that he then would be able to smell it; if on his head, it only would pass into the air above him.

Chided as an old man who ought to rest, he replied, "What, if I were running in the stadium, ought I to slacken my pace when approaching the goal?" To someone who declared life to be an evil, he corrected him, "Not life itself, but living ill." When asked from where he came, Diogenes said, "I am a citizen of the world" (cosmopolitan), and, when someone was queried as to what sort of man Diogenes was, the reply was given, "A Socrates gone mad."

[nerves-nebula]

reading the goblin emperor but shaking my head so that you know i disagree with the concept of an emperor and also i kinda think the guys who killed Maia's dad via sabotage have a based ideology fasdgfsgasdfasf like im sure they're gonna do more evil stuff or w/e but as is its like... i mean... i get it.

[illpoet]

being trans is so ship of theseus core

[thepiedcurrawong]

Me when I'm in a being the stupidest fucking idiot possible competition and my opponent is a nihlist:

[iobsessoverfictionalmen]

I'm really excited about doing a Harry Potter reading The Philosopher's Stone fic. I'm thinking that it will be a reader insert where the reader is Luna's godmother and Lucius Malfoy's ex.

Here's a preview of the fic:

"You've been dreaming about my godmother?" Luna asked curiously from behind Harry. The fifth year Gryffindor hadn't had much to do with the fourth year Ravenclaw after their ride to Hogwarts when Harry had found out that the carriages weren't pulled by invisible horses.

"She's such a kind, talented woman."

Harry bit down on his tongue, not wanting to disagree with Luna but unable to see how someone who had dated Draco Malfoy's father in her school days could be described as 'kind.'

Ron however, had no problems voicing his disbelief, "She can't be that kind if she was dating Malfoy Senior," he scoffed.

Luna's usual dreamy expression slipped and was replaced with a judgemental glare, "People and circumstances change Ronald. Or do you only offer forgiveness to those who were Sorted into Gryffindor?"

Eager to change the topic and wincing at the unintentional mention of Pettigrew, Harry spoke up, "How did you know where we were Luna?"

"Professor Dumbledore told me to come and find you," the Ravenclaw replied, shifting back to her usual demeanour. "He has a book called Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone. He wants to read the book to everyone in the Great Hall."

If you have any pairing suggestions for the fic, please comment them or send me an ask.

Once you have voted, please reblog so that this poll reaches a wider audience.

[silentgravesdontexist]

Sukuna having a whole self-enlightenment moment in the middle of a fight after brutally killing characters here and there is annoyingly funny—

[wibblywobblykid]

Official poster just dropped!