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08 March 2011

It is all absurd when one thinks about death. Everything is interchangeable.

From My Prizes: An Accounting, by Thomas Bernhard.

“There is nothing to praise, nothing to damn, nothing to accuse, but much that is absurd, indeed it is all absurd when one thinks about death. We go through life impressed, unimpressed, we cross the scene, everything is interchangeable, we have been schooled more or less effectively in a state where everything is mere props:  but it is all in error! We understand:  a clueless people, a beautiful country --- there are dead fathers or fathers conscientiously without conscience, straightforwardly despicable in the raw basics of their all makes for a past history that is philosophically significant and unendurable."

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