"I stick my finger into existence & it smells of nothin. Where am I? Wat is this thing called the world? Who is it tat has lured me into the thing & now leaves me here? Who am I? How did I get into the world? How did I get involved in this big enterprise called actuality? Why should I be involved? Isn't it a matter of choice? And if I am compelled to be involved, where is the manager - I have somethin to say abt this. Is there no manager? To whom shall I make my complaint?" - - -
"I am standin on the platform of the tram & I am entirely uncertain as to my place in this world, in this town, in my family. Not even approximately could I state wat claims I might justifiably advance in any direction. I am quite unable to defend the fact tat I am standin on this platform, holdin this strap, lettin myself be carried along by this tram & tat people are gettin out of the tram’s way or walkin along quietly or pausin in front of the shop windows. Not tat anyone asks me to, but tat is immaterial"
2006-11-12
17:56:03
·
4 answers
·
asked by
jes_evelyn
2
in
Philosophy