Favorite quotes

Favorite quotes

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I’ll follow thee and make a heaven of hell,
To die upon the hand I love so well.

Best: Non-existence
Ok: Early death
Worst: Late death

inb4 the entire thread is full of shakesbeard

I was expecting a car crash webm

"He who seeketh may easily get lost himself. All isolation is wrong": so say the herd. And long didst thou belong to the herd.

this

I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to protest.

Every great man has linked his life to a great morning

I don't know why but "Perhaps all pleasure is relief" from Burroughs's first novel Junky pops into my head all the time.

"You are the average of the 20 people closest to you in life"

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Memphis?

Yup. Nashville now

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>We are such stuff as dreams are made on; and our little life is rounded with a sleep.

when you're the best you're the best

The more you live the less useful it seems to have lived.

No bird soars too high if he soars with his own wings.

Live Laugh Love

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La parole est d'argent ,mais le silence est d"or.

But in the end one needs more courage to live than to kill himself

"'What progress have I made? I am beginning to be my own friend.' This is progress indeed. Such a person will never be alone, and you may be sure that he is a friend to all."

Il n'y a que les fous qui ne changent pas d'idée.

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This is fucking garbage dude.

[Burroughs documentary]
Ginsberg: Where'd you learn about sex originally, from friends?
Burroughs: Books.
Ginsberg: Books? Yes.

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Stop complaining

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"Say not, “Why were the former days better than these?” For it is not from wisdom that you ask this."

- Purportedly from King Solomon
The Book of Ecclesiastes.

Helps me keep things in perspective.

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Pretty much all of Moby-Dick, but here’s a random favourite:

> Hark ye yet again – the little lower layer. All visible objects, man, are but as pasteboard masks. But in each event – in the living act, the undoubted deed – there, some unknown but still reasoning thing puts forth the mouldings of its features from behind the unreasoning mask. If man will strike, strike through the mask! How can the prisoner reach outside except by thrusting through the wall? To me, the white whale is that wall, shoved near to me. Sometimes I think there’s naught beyond. But ’tis enough. He tasks me; he heaps me; I see in him outrageous strength, with an inscrutable malice sinewing it. That inscrutable thing is chiefly what I hate; and be the white whale agent, or be the white whale principal, I will wreak that hate upon him. Talk not to me of blasphemy, man; I’d strike the sun if it insulted me.

how the fuck did he write this stuff

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incredible

I left Memphis 5 years ago. Glad I did

There are no nations. There are no peoples. There are no Russians. There are no Arabs. There are no third worlds. There is no West. There is only one holistic system of systems, one vast and immane, interwoven, interacting, multi-variate, multi-national dominion of dollars. Petro-dollars, electro-dollars, multi-dollars, reichmarks, rins, rubles, pounds, and shekels. It is the international system of currency which determines the totality of life on this planet. That is the natural order of things today. That is the atomic and sub-atomic and galactic structure of things today! And you have meddled with the primal forces of nature, and You Will Atone!
Am I getting through to you, Mr. Beale? You get up on your little twenty-one inch screen and howl about America and democracy. There is no America. There is no democracy. There is only IBM and ITT and AT&T and DuPont, Dow, Union Carbide, and Exxon. Those are the nations of the world today.

Yea I heard it pretty bad

imagine being ridculed and having your carrer ruined by fools for writing this

justt fucking imagine

I have no enemies. I don't permit such a thing.

You are fucking garbage dude.

> There began to appear above them in the dawn-broached sky a hellish likeness of their ranks riding huge and inverted and the horses' legs incredibly elongate trampling down the high thin cirrus and the howling antiwarriors pendant from their mounts immense and chimeric and the high wild cries carrying that flat and barren pan like the cries of souls broke through some misweave in the weft of things into the world below.

>In health we should aspire to be the men we vowed to become when sickness prompted our words

>When you stop to examine the way in which words are formed and uttered, our sentences are hard put to survive the disaster of their slobbery origin. The mechanical effort of conversation is nastier and more complicated than defecation. That corolla of bloated flesh, the mouth, which screws itself up to whistle, which sucks in breath, contorts itself, discharged all manner of viscous sounds across a fetid barrier of decaying teeth.

>On boarding the ship at Marseille, I had been nothing, just a dreamy sort of nobody, but now, thanks to the concentrated attention of all those alcoholics and frustrated vaginas, I found myself changed beyond recognition, endowed with alarming prestige.

>The philosophers who bid us despise ambition do not forget to affix their names to their own books.

>I should have been that I am, had the maidenliest star in the firmament twinkled on my bastardizing

>Many a spear
>Dawn-cold to the touch will be taken down
>and waved on high; the sweet harp
>won't waken warriors, but the raven winging
>darkly over the doomed will have news
>tidings for the eagle of how he hoked and ate
how the wolf and he made short work of the dead.

>Time to get out, when such men put on the purple,
>when louts blown into Rome along with the figs and damsons
>precede me at dinner parties, or for the witnessing
>of manumissions and wills - me, who drew my first breath
>among these Roman hills, and was nourished on sabine olives!

I will pay the user in (you)s who can guess the origin of all of these without the help of google

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In one's friend one shall have one's best enemy

If you belonged to the world, it would love you as its own. As it is, you do not belong to the world, but I have chosen you out of the world. That is why the world hates you.

Neither pleasure nor pain should enter as motives when one must do what must be done.

Best opening line:

On the burning February morning Beatriz Viterbo died, after braving an agony
that never for a single moment gave way to self-pity or fear, I noticed that the
sidewalk billboards around Constitution Plaza were advertising some new brand
or other of American cigarettes. The fact pained me, for I realised that the wide
and ceaseless universe was already slipping away from her and that this slight
change was the first of an endless series

Best Denouement:

Best denouement:

On the back part of the step, toward the right, I saw a small iridescent sphere of
almost unbearable brilliance. At first I thought it was revolving; then I realised
that this movement was an illusion created by the dizzying world it bounded. The
Aleph’s diameter was probably little more than an inch, but all space was there,
actual and undiminished. Each thing was infinite
things, since I distinctly saw it from every angle of the universe. I saw the
teeming sea; I saw daybreak and nightfall; I saw the multitudes of America; I saw
a silvery cobweb in the center of a black pyramid; I saw a splintered labyrinth (it
was London); I saw, close up, unending eyes watching themselves in me as in a
mirror; I saw all the mirrors on earth and none of them reflected me; I saw in a
backyard of Soler Street the same tiles that thirty years before I’d seen in the
entrance of a house in Fray Bentos; I saw bunches of grapes, snow, tobacco, lodes
of metal, steam; I saw convex equatorial deserts and each one of their grains of
sand; I saw a woman in Inverness whom I shall never forget; I saw her tangled
hair, her tall figure, I saw the cancer in her breast; I saw a ring of baked mud in a
sidewalk, where before there had been a tree; I saw a summer house in Adrogué
and a copy of the first English translation of Pliny — Philemon Holland’s — and
all at the same time saw each letter on each page (as a boy, I used to marvel that
the letters in a closed book did not get scrambled and lost overnight); I saw a
sunset in Querétaro that seemed to reflect the colour of a rose in Bengal; I saw
my empty bedroom; I saw in a closet in Alkmaar a terrestrial globe between two
mirrors that multiplied it endlessly; I saw horses with flowing manes on a shore
of the Caspian Sea at dawn; I saw the delicate bone structure of a hand; I saw the
survivors of a battle sending out picture postcards; I saw in a showcase in
Mirzapur a pack of Spanish playing cards; I saw the slanting shadows of ferns on
a greenhouse floor; I saw tigers, pistons, bison, tides, and armies; I saw all the
ants on the planet; I saw a Persian astrolabe; I saw in the drawer of a writing table
(and the handwriting made me tremble) unbelievable, obscene, detailed letters,
which Beatriz had written to Carlos Argentino; I saw a monument I worshipped
in the Chacarita cemetery; I saw the rotted dust and bones that had once
deliciously been Beatriz Viterbo; I saw the circulation of my own dark blood; I
saw the coupling of love and the modification of death; I saw the Aleph from
every point and angle, and in the Aleph I saw the earth and in the earth the Aleph
and in the Aleph the earth; I saw my own face and my own bowels; I saw your
face; and I felt dizzy and wept, for my eyes had seen that secret and conjectured
object whose name is common to all men but which no man has looked upon —
the unimaginable universe.
I felt infinite wonder, infinite pity

We live in a world where there is more and more information, and less and less meaning

>As on your physiognomical voyage you sail around his vast head in your jolly-boat, your noble conceptions of him are never insulted by the reflection that he has a nose to be pulled. A pestilent conceit, which so often will insist upon obtruding even when beholding the mightiest royal beadle on his throne.

“How we live is so different from how we ought to live that he who studies what ought to be done rather than what is done will learn the way to his downfall rather than to his preservation.”
― Niccolo Machiavelli, The Prince

So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.

Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta. She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. But in my arms she was always Lolita.

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"Even extreme grief may ultimately vex itself in violence - but more generally takes the form of apathy" - Joseph Conrad, Heart of Darkness.

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this post will destroy incels

there is no reason NOT to fuck as many people as you please to. morality, demurity, chastity, virginity are all spooks. be smart and you won't get an std or unwanted pregnancy. there's literally no consequence. if you want a few extra years to slut around before getting a husband just keep in shape and take care of your skin. the majority of women are obese trash who age themselves 10+ years. a well kept 30 year old looks better than an absolute slob 22 year old. by the time he learns your real age he'll already be hooked and it won't matter. "ah baby you're perfect, god you're so hot and fuck so good, but this number on this piece of paper is too high so I'm afraid I have to leave you and be single, bitter, and miserably lonely for another 5 years, by which time i'll be fat and balding and no woman will want me." yeah, nah.

further. i've fucked tons of married men and their wives quite obviously don't know jack shit. you can cheat on your partner very easily. again, have safe sex, no stds or pregnancies, and there is no possible consequence.

men only know your "number" if you tell them.

reminder that if men were as desired as women, they'd be even bigger sluts than we are. anyone saying female promiscuity is "bad" is bitter grapes personified. if you COULD fuck, you would. the term is "incel" not "volcel." if incels could become chad tomorrow and fuck 1000 people they would in a heartbeat.

>m-muh roast
there's no difference taking one dick 200 times or 200 dicks one time, or even a dildo 200 times. either way, that's not how anything works, you retarded incel mongrels. my pussy is picture perfect.

i fuck who i please, and you can't. i turn down about 98% of the men interested in me because they aren't good enough.

i can afford to have exactly what i want, when i want. you take whatever drops on the floor in front of you.

most dicks are concentrated around an average. they're essentially the same. or does eating 200 different apples chip away at your teeth? wearing 20 different shoes deform your feet?

i'll wait while you come up with a reason incels who deathgrip wank 3x a day for 20 years don't have 3 feet of trailing darkened dickskin hanging off their shaft.

I do what I please, when I please. I don't jump when chad knocks because I have access to a hundred chads. You will never be the top 5% of women in your peergroup and understand this feel.

he can only know you fucked 50+ guys if you tell him. there's no neon sign over my head.
the guy four guys back i fucked honestly thought i was a virgin and kept asking me if i was. it was hilarious.

as long as he wasn't a fag or niggerfucker and doesn't have a disease i wouldn't care how many women a guy has slept with, probably because, unlike pointy elbows 2/10 incel dweebs, I'm not insecure.
the best authors were all promiscuous. the worst authors were disgusting incels like k*nt.

ressentiment

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"Damn those who talk about dogmas. There has yet to be a renegade who did not use this word. Mao Tse Tung compared it with “cow shit”. Well, bon apetit!" - Amadeo Bordiga, The Spirit of Horsepower

I can fuck and i'm not, stfu

“SOCRATES: "Evils, Theodorus, can never pass away; for there must always remain something which is antagonistic to good. Having no place among the gods in heaven, of necessity they hover around the mortal nature, and this earthly sphere. Wherefore we ought to fly away from earth to heaven as quickly as we can; and to fly away is to become like God, as far as this is possible; and to become like him, is to become holy, just, and wise. But, O my friend, you cannot easily convince mankind that they should pursue virtue or avoid vice, not merely in order that a man may seem to be good, which is the reason given by the world, and in my judgment is only a repetition of an old wives fable. Whereas, the truth is that God is never in any way unrighteous-he is perfect righteousness; and he of us who is the most righteous is most like him. Herein is seen the true cleverness of a man, and also his nothingness and want of manhood. For to know this is true wisdom and virtue, and ignorance of this is manifest folly and vice. All other kinds of wisdom or cleverness, which seem only, such as the wisdom of politicians, or the wisdom of the arts, are coarse and vulgar. The unrighteous man, or the sayer and doer of unholy things, had far better not be encouraged in the illusion that his roguery is clever; for men glory in their shame -they fancy that they hear others saying of them, "These are not mere good-for nothing persons, mere burdens of the earth, but such as men should be who mean to dwell safely in a state." Let us tell them that they are all the more truly what they do not think they are because they do not know it; for they do not know the penalty of injustice, which above all things they ought to know-not stripes and death, as they suppose, which evil-doers often escape, but a penalty which cannot be escaped.“

Have at thee, my nigger

Education teaches a man how to spell experience

“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.”

“There are some people who would never have fallen in love if they had not heard there was such a thing.”

“To give up our imaginary position as the center, to renounce it, not only intellectually but in the imaginative part of our soul, that means to awaken to what is real and eternal, to see the true light and hear the true silence.”

Shoo shoo roastie

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“I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”

“Truth is, everybody is going to hurt you. You just gotta find the ones worth suffering for.”

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“It’s easy to take off your clothes and have sex. People do it all the time. But opening up your soul to someone, letting them into your spirit, thoughts, fears, future, hopes, dreams… that is being naked.”

“Nobody dies from the lack of sex. It's lack of love we die from.”

Is people do not believe that mathematics is simple, it's only because they don't realize how complicated life is.

- von Neumann

I this a new pasta?

“What a strange world this is when you can have as much sex as you like but love is taboo.”

"In Hell, everything is self-sufficient and superficial. There is no depth, no relation to the past, only an eternal state of beginning."

Didn't know film quotes counted in this thread.

>morality, demurity, chastity, virginity are all spooks.
The idea that sexual desire ought to be obeyed is also a spook

The stage of War is what man is born upon. The Alter or peace, is what he shall die upon.

Even if I know I shall never change the masses, never transform anything permanent, all I ask is that the good things also have their place, their refuge.

- Wagner

that jacket looks hella comfy

I need to read it asap.

“The direction of this new force, liberated by the love, vanity, and inspiration of a sharp little shop assistant, was through the spirit of the times to a personal power that were content to wish as large as possible, without any limitation or detailed idea. This spirit, since it was the Age of Reason, was love of Mystery. For it cannot be disguised that the prime effect of knowledge of the universe in which we are shipwrecked is a feeling of despair and disgust, often developing into an energetic desire to escape reality altogether. The age of Voltaire is also the age of fairy tales; the vast Cabinet de Fèes, some volumes of which Marie Antoinette took into her cell to console her, it is said, stood alongside the Encyclopèdie ... This impression of disgust, and this impulse to escape were naturally very strong in the eighteenth century, which had come to a singularly lucid view of the truth of the laws that govern our existence, the nature of mankind, its passions and instincts, its societies, customs, and possibilities, its scope and cosmical setting and the probable length and breadth of its destinies. This escape, since from Truth, can only be into Illusion, the sublime comfort and refuge of that pragmatic fiction we have already praised. There is the usual human poverty of all its possible varieties ... there are all the drugs, from subtle, all conquering opium to cheating, cozening cocaine. There is religion, of course, and music, and gambling; these are the major euphorias. But the queerest and oldest is the sidepath of Magic... At its deepest, this Magic is concerned with the creative powers of the will; at lowest it is but a barbarous rationalism, the first of all our attempts to force the heavens to be reasonable.”
― William Bolitho, Twelve Against the Gods

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“What is the Absolute? Something that appears to us in fleeting experiences--say, through the gentle smile of a beautiful woman, or even through the warm caring smile of a person who may otherwise seem ugly and rude. In such miraculous but extremely fragile moments, another dimension transpires through our reality. As such, the Absolute is easily corroded;it slips all too easily through our fingers and must be handled as carefully as a butterfly”

>Going up that river was like travelling back to the earliest beginnings of the world, when vegetation rioted on the earth and the big trees were kings. An empty stream, a great silence, an impenetrable forest. The air was warm, thick, heavy, sluggish. There was no joy in the brilliance of sunshine. The long stretches of the waterway ran on, deserted, into the gloom of overshadowed distances. On silvery sandbanks hippos and alligators sunned themselves side by side. The broadening waters flowed through a mob of wooded islands; you lost your way on that river as you would in a desert, and butted all day long against shoals, trying to find the channel, till you thought yourself bewitched and cut off forever from everything you had known once -somewhere- far away in another existence perhaps. There were moments when one's past came back to one, as it will sometimes when you have not a moment to spare to yourself; but it came in the shape of an unrestful and noisy dream, remembered with wonder amongst the overwhelming realities of this strange world of plants, and water, and silence. And this stillness of life did not in the least resemble a peace. It was the stillness of an implacable force brooding over an inscrutable intention. It looked at you with a vengeful aspect.

Mother fucker spoke English as his 3rd language, what a fucking beast of a wordsmith

>In the evening he saddled his horse and rode out west from the house. The wind was much abated and it was very cold and the sun sat blood red and elliptic under the reefs of bloodred cloud before him. He rode where he would always choose to ride, out where the western fork of the old Comanche road coming down out of the Kiowa country to the north passed through the westernmost section of the ranch and you could see the faint trace of it bearing south over the low prairie that lay between the north and middle forks of the Concho River. At the hour he'd always choose when the shadows were long and the ancient road was shaped before him in the rose and canted light like a dream of the past where the painted ponies and the riders of that lost nation came down out of the north with their faces chalked and their long hair plaited and each armed for war which was their life and the women and children and women with children at their breasts all of them pledged in blood and redeemable in blood only. When the wind was in the north you could hear them, the horses and the breath of the horses and the horses' hooves that were shod in rawhide and the rattle of lances and the constant drag of the travois poles in the sand like the passing of some enormous serpent and the young boys naked on wild horses jaunty as circus riders and hazing wild horses before them and the dogs trotting with their tongues aloll and footslaves following half naked and sorely burdened an above all the low chant of their traveling song which the riders sang as they rode, nation and ghost of nation passing in a soft chorale across that mineral waste to darkness bearing lost to all history and all remembrance like a grail the sum of their secular and transitory and violent lives.

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First is Blood Meridian

Second is War and Peace

Third and fourth are Journey to the End of the Night

I don't know 5

6 is either King Lear or Richard III

Seven is Beowulf

I don't know 8

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Sometimes you don’t fight to win, you fight for mercy

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>morality, demurity, chastity, virginity are all spooks
> there's literally no consequence
>there's no difference taking one dick 200 times or 200 dicks one time
wrong

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four (you)s for 4 correct

I just finished this book ten minutes ago, pretty fun read. Realized I’m like Francois but sans the knowledge and prestige; I will not enjoy the caliphate

All the Pretty Horses? Some good little prose episodes in that one.

This is good

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>"In the original drafts of the Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus, he [Wittgenstein] had insisted on putting illustrations of naked women with very large breasts and cat ears which he had drawn himself at the start of each section. He said it reflected "the ethos of our age" and was a statement on how un-sexed all previous philosophic endeavors had been. Russell and I urged him against it, citing how it would scandalize his academic career and stood no chance of being published. He grew outraged, spouting, "I'll publish the damned thing myself! I've created art, do you eunuchs understand? Art! I am prouder of the tits on page 56 than I am of the whole of the logic that follows!" We eventually comprised on removing the illustrations from the editions of the Tractatus that would be sent to the publishers and giving the editions with the illustrations a small, private run to be distributed amongst Wittgenstein's closest acquaintances. My wife was displeased when she discovered my copy of the illustrated Tractatus and demanded I throw it out. I was loath to part from it because, it must be admitted, those cat-eared females of Wittgenstein's were indeed a work of art." -Norman Malcolm, in Ludwig Wittgenstein: A Memoir (1966), p. 31

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'It is well known that there was formerly a rude custom for those who were sailing upon the Thames, to accost each other as they passed, in the most abusive language they could invent, generally, however, with as much satirical humour as they were capable of producing. Addison gives a specimen of this ribaldry, in Number 383 of The Spectator, when Sir Roger de Coverly and he are going to Spring-garden. Johnson was once eminently successful in this species of contest; a fellow having attacked him with some coarse raillery, Johnson answered him thus, "Sir, your wife, under pretence of keeping a bawdy-house, is a receiver of stolen goods."

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"Kilimajaro is a snow-covered mountain 19,710 feet high, and is said to be the highest mountain in Africa. Its western summit is called the Masai 'Ngàje Ngài,' the House of God. Close to the western summit there is the dried and frozen carcass of a leopard. No one has explained what the leopard was seeking at that altitude." -Ernest Hemingway; 'The Snows of Kilimanjaro'

>The tolls for the maintenance of a high road, cannot with any safety be made the property of private persons.
>As soon as the land of any country has all become private property, the landlords, like all other men, love to reap where they never sowed, and demand a rent even for its natural produce.
>A tax upon house-rents, therefore, would in general fall heaviest upon the rich; and in this sort of inequality there would not, perhaps, be anything very unreasonable. It is not very unreasonable that the rich should contribute to the public expense, not only in proportion to their revenue, but something more than in that proportion.
>We rarely hear, it has been said, of the combinations of masters, though frequently of those of the workman. But whoever imagines, upon this account, that masters rarely combine, is as ignorant of the world as of the subject.
>Our merchants and master-manufacturers complain much of the bad effects of high wages in raising the price, and thereby lessening the sale of their goods both at home and abroad. They say nothing concerning the bad effects of high profits. They are silent with regard to the pernicious effects of their own gains. They complain only of those of other people.
>Whenever the legislature attempts to regulate the differences between masters and their workmen, its counsellors are always the masters. When the regulation, therefore, is in favor of the workmen, it is always just and equitable; but it is sometimes otherwise when in favor of the masters.
>The interest of the dealers, however, in any particular branch of trade or manufactures, is always in some respects different from, and even opposite to, that of the public. To widen the market and to narrow the competition, is always the interest of the dealers.
>Monopoly of one kind or another, indeed, seems to be the sole engine of the mercantile system.
>Civil government, so far as it is instituted for the security of property, is in reality instituted for the defence of the rich against the poor, or of those who have some property against those who have none at all.
>In the process of division of labour, the employment of the far greater part of those how live by labour, that is, of the great body of people….The man whose whole life is spent in performing a few simple operations, of which the effects are perhaps always the same, or very nearly the same, has no occasion to exert his understanding or to exercise his invention in finding out expedients for removing difficulties which never occur. He naturally loses, therefore, the habit of such exertion, and generally becomes as stupid and ignorant as it is possible for a human creature to become.
>But in every improved and civilized society this is the state into which the labouring poor, that is, the great body of the people must necessarily fall, unless government take some pains to prevent it.

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hello roastie

The origins of aristocracy lay in giving protection, protection from the threat of monsters and demons. This is the hallmark of nobility, and it still shines today in the guard who secretly slips a piece of bread to a prisoner. This cannot be lost, and on this the world subsists.

I have, as a generous estimate, 12 people I am close to in my life. Does this mean I am 40% void?

>So, when on one side you hoist in Locke's head, you go over that way; but now, on the other side, hoist in Kant's and you come back again; but in very poor plight. Thus, some minds for ever keep trimming boat. Oh, ye foolish! throw all these thunder-heads overboard, and then you will float light and right.

You'd still be better than most of the board.

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There is no one more of afraid of me than I am.

"They might as well lick each others wounds. But they would lick forever, and the wounds would never heal, and in the end their tongues would be worn away."

"I must not fear.Fear is the mind-killer.Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.I will face my fear.I will permit it to pass over me and through me.And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain."

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Yup. In the first dozen or so pages

Which did I get right?

Marcus Aurelius?