"subjectivity"タグの名言

I think I am, therefore, I am... I think.

We are not our own light.

Those who live as though God sets the rules are not going by their own rules. That is the self-sacrifice, or selflessness, that peace more often than not requires. Those who insist on going by their own rules cannot make that sacrifice. They are the steady adherents of (global) conflict because they are forever fighting both themselves and others to do whatever they think that they want to do.

When two things occur successively we call them cause and effect if we believe one event made the other one happen. If we think one event is the response to the other, we call it a reaction. If we feel that the two incidents are not related, we call it a mere coincidence. If we think someone deserved what happened, we call it retribution or reward, depending on whether the event was negative or positive for the recipient. If we cannot find a reason for the two events' occurring simultaneously or in close proximity, we call it an accident. Therefore, how we explain coincidences depends on how we see the world. Is everything connected, so that events create resonances like ripples across a net? Or do things merely co-occur and we give meaning to these co-occurrences based on our belief system? Lieh-tzu's answer: It's all in how you think.

All we know is what we're told.

It's not objective. It's subjective.” Katya hooks her bra behind her back. “It's just what you think, not the truth.

クリケットの楽譜で歌われるささやきの歌 Hilsaの魚群の色を膣の形をした網の中に閉じ込めている 自由運動中の絞首刑の殉教者のイチジクの木の下 毛虫噛んだ香料入りレモンの葉の角から 石造りのチップ所有者のうなじ坊主ヒロックから空を飛んで

আচ্ছন্ন ঢেউয়ের সাথে মেতে উঠি আমি ঝিনুক ও নুড়ির কাছে যাই – জলের যোনিতে বারান্দায় বয়ে আনা হয় তাকে - এলোমেলো শাড়ি বিশৃঙ্খল রেখাগুলি অভ্যন্তর থেকে ভেঙ্গে পড়ে ... কেউ এসে পেটিকোট খুলে দিয়েছিল ফলের শাঁসের মত বুক - হাঁটু গেড়ে স্পর্শ করি হাতের তালুতে, ত্রিপুরার অচেনা শহরে আমি মদ নিয়ে বসি অন্ধদের সাথে, ঘুরে ফিরে একই গান একই অন্ধ গান টুকরো টুকরো কোরে গাওয়া হয় একই শবের ভেলায় উঠে বসি, নীচে থেকে আরও হাত উঠে আসে, ‘আমাকেও তুলে নাও...’ এই যে উলঙ্গ হয়ে বসে আছি আরও এক মগ্নতার ভয়ংকর বুকে, শূন্যতার ভিন্ন এক স্তরে গিয়ে – জানি ঝুলে থাকা হাত তার উঠে বসে, আমাকে জড়াবে ...

Changes is the mother of time. Absence of changes makes no time.

I confess I do not believe in time. I like to fold my magic carpet, after use, in such a way as to superimpose one part of the pattern upon another. Let visitors trip.

And if he had judged her harshly? If her life were a simple rosary of hours, her life simple and strange as a bird's life, gay in the morning, restless all day, tired at sundown? Her heart simple and willful as a bird's heart?

A man who wants the truth becomes a scientist; a man who wants to give free play to his subjectivity may become a writer; but what should a man do who wants something in between?

Scientific points of view are always both naïve and at the same time dishonest, because they take for granted without explicitly mentioning it, that other point of view, namely that of the consciousness, through which from the outset a world forms itself around me and begins to exist for me.

The focus of subjectivity is a distorting mirror.