... he felt himself to be one of them, who can live neither in the world nor out of it. They are a kind of sick people, whose desire for God makes them unsatisfactory citizens of an ordinary life, but whose strength or temperament fails them to surrender the world completely; and present-day society, with its hurried pace and its mechanical and technical structure, offers no home to these unhappy souls.
Iris MurdochTag: kulturelle-angst
There is no beyond, there is only here, the infinitely small, infinitely great and utterly demanding present.
Iris MurdochTag: life death religion afterlife
The division of one day from the next must be one of the most profound peculiarities of life on this planet. We are not condemned to sustained flights of being, but are constantly refreshed by little holidays from ourselves. We are intermittent creatures, always falling to little ends and rising to new beginnings. Our soon-tired consciousness is meted out in chapters, and that the world will look quite different tomorrow is, both for our comfort and our discomfort, usually true. How marvelously too night matches sleep, sweet image of it, so nearly apportioned to our need. Angels must wonder at these beings who fall so regularly out of awareness into a fantasm-infested dark. How our frail identities survive these chasms no philosopher has ever been able to explain.
Iris MurdochOnce in an endless meadow, just able to peer through the tawny haze of the grass tops, the child who was myself had watched a young fox catching mice, an elegant newly minted fox, straight from the hand of God, brilliantly ruddy, with black stockings and a white-tipped brush. The fox heard and turned. I saw its intense vivid mask, its liquid amber eyes. Then it was gone. An image of such beauty and such mysterious sense. The child wept and knew himself an artist.
Iris MurdochHappy is the civilization which can breed men accustomed from infancy to regard certain at least of the ego's natural activities as unthinkable.
Iris MurdochI feel half faded away like some figure in the background of an old picture.
Iris MurdochTag: sadness unimportant
This sort of quiet gazing, which was like a feeding of the heart...
Iris MurdochTag: love
There is no substitute for the comfort supplied by the utterly taken-for-granted relationship...
Iris MurdochTag: relationships
It was a piece of thoroughly picturesque and proper violence. I like a violent man, really, a man who's a bit of a brute in a decent straightforward way.
Iris MurdochI felt a deep grief that crouched and stayed still as if it was afraid to move.
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