We are forced to fall back on fatalism as an explanation of irrational events (that is to say, events the reasonableness of which we do not understand). The more we try to explain such events in history reasonably, the more unreasonable and incomprehensible do they become to us.
Each man lives for himself, using his freedom to attain his personal aims, and feels with his whole being that he can now do or abstain from doing this or that action; but as soon as he has done it, that action performed at a certain moment in time becomes irrevocable and belongs to history, in which it has not a free but a predestined significance.
...
A king is history's slave.
Though Napoleon at that time, in 1812, was more convinced than ever that it depended on him, verser (ou ne pas verser) le sang de ses peuples--as Alexander expressed it in the last letter he wrote him--he had never been so much in the grip of inevitable laws, which compelled him, while thinking that he was acting on his own volition, to perform for the hive life--that is to say, for history--whatever had to be performed.
Each man lives for himself, using his freedom to attain his personal aims, and feels with his whole being that he can now do or abstain from doing this or that action; but as soon as he has done it, that action performed at a certain moment in time becomes irrevocable and belongs to history, in which it has not a free but a predestined significance.
...
A king is history's slave.
Though Napoleon at that time, in 1812, was more convinced than ever that it depended on him, verser (ou ne pas verser) le sang de ses peuples--as Alexander expressed it in the last letter he wrote him--he had never been so much in the grip of inevitable laws, which compelled him, while thinking that he was acting on his own volition, to perform for the hive life--that is to say, for history--whatever had to be performed.
Lev Tolstoi. War And Peace.
Como los sueños se han vuelto horribles (hoy desperté temblando de rabia) quisiera cambiar de cama, de habitación, de casa, despertar sin saber donde estoy con un techo no familiar, una orientación no familiar, ruidos no familiares.
Despues de todas estas semanas sigo soñando con el día en que responda "a booth in the midwest" cuando me pregunten de dónde llamo; a pesar de que no me queda muy claro como el centro norte puede ser el medio oeste.. tendré que ir a averiguarlo. Aunque la plaza Washington suena más interesante, hay algo sobre la vaguedad (yes, I need some of that vagueness now) de la cabina en el medio oeste. Talvez por las historias de mi padre el abogado viajero.
Se aceptan invitaciones a dormir.
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