Once absorbed, Schopenhauer’s philosophy remains like a black lamp that the mind cannot turn away from. There is a magnetism about it, a dark attraction that always makes sure to draw attention to itself. And then it shows itself, always wise, true and unpleasant, as pushing with irrefutable arguments the conduct advocated by its creator. One can say what one wants about Schopenhauer, but one cannot deny his force.
Five Centuries of Genealogy
And we see, with a mixture of pleasure and surprise, Nabokov describing in detail five centuries of his genealogy. Five centuries! And, on the other side, those who do not even know the name of any of their great-grandparents. It is nice to think that there is, in both cases, a reason for this; and if in one of them we have a great writer extracting meaning from his family, filling himself with a healthy and stimulating sense of belonging, in the other we have the practical justification for a particular philosophy…
Bocage’s Burlesque Verses
There is something really funny about Bocage’s burlesque verses that, if read in small amounts, provoke sincere laughter. However, the fun boils down to this. They are verses that cannot be read in piles without causing boredom. This is the way obscenity is: it only causes effect as long as it astonishes; once the astonishment disappears, it can only generate boredom and aversion.
The Moralist Is Someone Who Swallows Stones
The moralist is someone who swallows stones and, unable to digest them, feels them tearing him from the inside in a painful journey that turns into literary groans. Nothing is gained from them, except the realization that they have occurred and will occur again. The moralist can do nothing against the stones, and there seems to be something in him that urges him to eat them again and again.