You will become way less concerned with what other people think of you when you realize how seldom they do.
David Foster WallaceRead
That everything is on fire, slow fire, and we're all less than a million breaths away from an oblivion more total than we can even bring ourselves to even try to imagine.
Interpretation
Life is ephemeral and fraught with existential risks, urging us to recognize our mortality.
David Foster Wallace's quote reflects on the precariousness of existence and the pervasive sense of impending doom that can accompany our lives. He suggests that we are constantly living in a 'slow fire'—a gradual descent toward oblivion—highlighting how life is both beautiful yet ultimately fleeting and filled with uncertainty. This serves as a poignant reminder to appreciate the present and confront the realities of our mortality.
In practice
During a deep discussion on life and death at a gathering with friends.
You will become way less concerned with what other people think of you when you realize how seldom they do.
Everything in my own immediate experience supports my deep belief that I am the absolute center of the universe, the realest, most vivid and important person in existence.
It seems important to find ways of reminding ourselves that most 'familiarity' is meditated and delusive.
Under fun's new administration, writing fiction becomes a way to go deep inside yourself and illuminate precisely the stuff you don't want to see or let anyone else see, and this stuff usually turns out (paradoxically) to be precisely the stuff all writers and readers share and respond to, feel.
Acceptance is usually more a matter of fatigue than anything else.
Bliss - a-second-by-second joy and gratitude at the gift of being alive, conscious - lies on the other side of crushing, crushing boredom. Pay close attention to the most tedious thing you can find (Tax Returns, Televised Golf) and, in waves, a boredom like you’ve never known will wash over you and just about kill you. Ride these out, and it’s like stepping from black and white into color. Like water after days in the desert. Instant bliss in every atom.
The spirit of democracy cannot be established in the midst of terrorism, whether governmental or popular.
An earthly kingdom cannot exist without inequality of persons. Some must be free, some serfs, some rulers, some subjects.
The darkness, the loop of negative thoughts on repeat, clamours and interferes with the music I hear in my head.
Yesterday and tomorrow cross and mix on the skyline. The two are lost in a purple haze. One forgets, one waits.
What is life but a series of inspired follies.
Peace is not made at the council table or by treaties, but in the hearts of men.
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