老虎机稳赢方法

“I can breathe easier now that the appointments are behind me.
I missed them all, through deliberate negligence,
Having waited for the urge to go, which I knew wouldn鈥檛 come.
I鈥檓 free, and against organized, clothed society.
I鈥檓 naked and plunge into the water of my imagination.”
― Fernando Pessoa

“Nothing is more alien to the present age than idleness. If we think of resting from our labours, it is only in order to return to them.
In thinking so highly of work we are aberrant. Few other cultures have ever done so. For nearly all of history and all prehistory, work was an indignity.”
― John Gray, Straw Dogs: Thoughts on Humans and Other Animals

“Human knowledge is one thing, human wellbeing another. There is no predetermined harmony between the two. The examined life may not be worth living.”
― John Gray, Straw Dogs: Thoughts on Humans and Other Animals

“Philosophy ought to question the basic assumptions of the age. Thinking through, critically and carefully, what most of us take for granted is, I believe, the chief task of philosophy, and the task that makes philosophy a worthwhile activity.”
― Peter Singer, Animal Liberation

“We are gods with anuses.”
― Ernest Becker, The Denial of Death

“Yet, at the same time, as the Eastern sages also knew, man is a worm and food for worms. This is the paradox: he is out of nature and hopelessly in it; he is dual, up in the stars and yet housed in a heart-pumping, breath-gasping body that once belonged to a fish and still carries the gill-marks to prove it. His body is a material fleshy casing that is alien to him in many ways鈥攖he strangest and most repugnant way being that it aches and bleeds and will decay and die. Man is literally split in two: he has an awareness of his own splendid uniqueness in that he sticks out of nature with a towering majesty, and yet he goes back into the ground a few feet in order to blindly and dumbly rot and disappear forever. It is a terrifying dilemma to be in and to have to live with. The lower animals are, of course, spared this painful contradiction, as they lack a symbolic identity and the self-consciousness that goes with it. They merely act and move reflexively as they are driven by their instincts. If they pause at all, it is only a physical pause; inside they are anonymous, and even their faces have no name. They live in a world without time, pulsating, as it were, in a state of dumb being. This is what has made it so simple to shoot down whole herds of buffalo or elephants. The animals don't know that death is happening and continue grazing placidly while others drop alongside them. The knowledge of death is reflective and conceptual, and animals are spared it. They live and they disappear with the same thoughtlessness: a few minutes of fear, a few seconds of anguish, and it is over. But to live a whole lifetime with the fate of death haunting one's dreams and even the most sun-filled days鈥攖hat's something else.”
― Ernest Becker, The Denial of Death

“Instead of being a sign of their inferiority, the lack of abstract thinking among cats is a mark of their freedom of mind. Thinking in generalities slides easily into a superstitious faith in language. Much of the history of philosophy consists of the worship of linguistic fictions. Relying on what they can touch, smell and see, cats are not ruled by words.
Philosophy testifies to the frailty of the human mind. Humans philosophize for the same reason they pray. They know the meaning they have fashioned in their lives is fragile and live in dread of its breaking down. Death is the ultimate breakdown in meaning, since it marks the end of any story they have told themselves.”
― John N. Gray, Feline Philosophy: Cats and the Meaning of Life

“In many ways, women are death's natural companions. Every time a woman gives birth, she is creating not only a life, but a death. Samuel Beckett wrote that women "give birth astride of a grave." Mother Nature is indeed a real mother, creating and destroying in a constant loop.”
― Caitlin Doughty, Smoke Gets in Your Eyes: And Other Lessons from the Crematory

“There is a freedom found in decomposition, a body rendered messy, chaotic, and wild.”
― Caitlin Doughty, From Here to Eternity: Traveling the World to Find the Good Death

“I was walking along the bank of a stream when I saw a mother otter with her cubs, a very endearing sight, I'm sure you'll agree. And even as I watched, the mother otter dived into the water and came up with a plump salmon, which she subdued and dragged onto a half submerged log. As she ate it, while of course it was still alive, the body split and I remember to this day the sweet pinkness of its roes as they spilled out, much to the delight of the baby otters, who scrambled over themselves to feed on the delicacy. One of nature's wonders, gentlemen. Mother and children dining upon mother and children. And that is when I first learned about evil. It is built into the very nature of the universe. Every world spins in pain. If there is any kind of supreme being, I told myself, it is up to all of us to become his moral superior.”
― Terry Pratchett

“Man is an animal who has to live in a lie in order to
live at all.”
― Ernest Becker, Escape from Evil

“Morning or night, Friday or Sunday, made no difference, everything was the same: the gnawing, excruciating, incessant pain; that awareness of life irrevocably passing but not yet gone; that dreadful, loathsome death, the only reality, relentlessly closing in on him; and that same endless lie. What did days, weeks, or hours matter?”
― Leo Tolstoy, The Death of Ivan Ilych

“Men are never convinced of your reasons, of your sincerity, of the seriousness of your sufferings, except by your death. So long as you are alive, your case is doubtful; you have a right only to their skepticism.”
― Albert Camus, The Fall

“The cable was still sending sharp sparks into the air. He could think of nothing in life that he especially desired, but those purple sparks--those wildly-blooming flowers of fire--he would trade his life for the chance to hold them in his hands."

-from "The Life of a Stupid Man”
― Ry奴nosuke Akutagawa, Rash艒mon and Seventeen Other Stories

“A single sentence will suffice for modern man. He fornicated and read the papers. After that vigorous definition, the subject will be, if I may say so, exhausted.”
― Albert Camus, The Fall

“Matter was itself intelligent, constantly mutating and producing new forms, some of them self-aware. As a child Leopardi had written an essay on 鈥榯he souls of beasts鈥�, and he is clear that consciousness is not confined to humans. The difference between beasts and human beings is not that humans are self-aware while beasts are not. Both are conscious machines. The difference lies in the greater frailty of the human soul, which produces illusions of which beasts have no need.”
― John Nicholas Gray, The Soul of the Marionette: A Short Inquiry into Human Freedom

“All his life the example of a syllogism he had studied in Kiesewetter's logic - "Caius is a man, men are mortal, therefore Caius is mortal" - had seemed to him to be true only in relation to Caius the man, man in general, and it was quite justified , but he wasn't Caius and he wasn't man in general, and he had always been something quite, quite special apart from all other beings; he was Vanya, with Mama, with Papa, with Mitya and Volodya, with his toys and the coachman, with Nyanya, then with Katenka, with all the joys, sorrows, passions of childhood, boyhood, youth. Did Caius know the smell of the striped leather ball Vanya loved so much?: Did Caius kiss his mother's hand like that and did the silken folds of Caius's mother's dress rustle like that for him? Was Caius in love like that? Could Caius chair a session like that? And Caius is indeed mortal and it's right that he should die, but for me, Vanya, Ivan Ilych, with all my feelings and thoughts - for me it's quite different. And it cannot be that I should die. It would be too horrible.”
― Leo Tolstoy, The Death of Ivan Ilych

“[Dostoevsky] soon began to notice that the life of freedom came more and more to resemble the life in the convict settlement, and that 鈥渢he vast dome of the sky鈥� which had seemed to him limitless when he was in prison now began to crush and to press on him as much as the barrack vaults had used to do; that the ideals which had sustained his fainting soul when he lived amongst the lowest dregs of humanity and shared their fate had not made a better man of him, nor liberated him, but on the contrary weighed him down and humiliated him as grievously as the chains of his prison. . . . Dostoevsky suddenly 鈥渟aw鈥� that the sky and the prison walls, ideals and chains are not contradictory to one another, as he had wished and thought formerly, when he still wished and thought like normal men.”
― Lev Shestov, In Job's Balances: A collection of essays by Lev Shestov

“The business of philosophy is to teach man to live in uncertainty... not to reassure him, but to upset him.”
― Lev Shestov, All Things are Possible

“For why do the successful owe anything to the less-advantaged members of society? The answer to this question depends on recognizing that, for all our striving, we are not self-made and self-sufficient; finding ourselves in a society that prizes our talents is our good fortune, not our due. A lively sense of the contingency of our lot can inspire a certain humility: "There, but for the grace of God, or the accident of birth, or the mystery of fate, go I." Such humility is the beginning of the way back from the harsh ethic of success that drives us apart. It points beyond the tyranny of merit toward a less rancorous, more generous public life.”
― Michael J. Sandel, The Tyranny of Merit: What's Become of the Common Good?

“In light of this pointlessness of existence rejectionism finds a dual objection to the business of procreation. It conscripts sentient beings to a lifetime of vexations and sufferings which they might be spared. Second, it perpetuates the unnecessary and pointless game of existence, taking it for granted as 鈥榥atural鈥� and/ or legitimizing it with all sorts of rationalizations.”
― Kenneth S. Coates, Anti-Natalism: Rejectionist Philosophy from Buddhism to Benatar

“For hours after the three consecutive calls鈥攁nd after the predictable banality and futility of the pep talk, after the attempt to revive the old esprit by reviving memories of his colleagues' lives, by trying to find things to say to buck up the hopeless and bring them back from the brink鈥攚hat he wanted to do was not only to phone and speak to his daughter, whom he found in the hospital with Phoebe, but to revive his own esprit by phoning and talking to his mother and father. Yet what he'd learned was nothing when measured against the inevitable onslaught that is the end of life. Had he been aware of the mortal suffering of every man and woman he happened to have known during all his years of professional life, of each one's painful story of regret and loss and stoicism, of fear and panic and isolation and dread, had he learned of every last thing they had parted with that had once been vitally theirs and of how, systematically, they were being destroyed, he would have had to stay on the phone through the day and into the night, making another hundred calls at least. Old age isn't a battle; old age is a massacre.”
― Philip Roth, Everyman

“The profusion of the stars told him unambiguously that he was doomed to die”
― Philip Roth, Everyman

“Morir no es malo para el que muere, pens茅; es tremendo para el que queda navegando por la estela que el otro traz贸, desbrozando, soportando una vida larga, fofa, despojada del menor aliciente...”
― Miguel Delibes, La sombra del cipr茅s es alargada

“De s煤bito me vi agarrando la cruz de granito de Cuatro Postes. Apenas me atrev铆a a darme la vuelta y tender la vista sobre la ciudad nevada. Cuando lo hice, un sentimiento amplio, inconcreto, me resbal贸 por la espalda. La ciudad, ebria de luna, era un bello producto de contrastes. Brotaba de la tierra dibujada en claroscuros ofensivos. Era un espect谩culo fosforescente y p谩lido, con algo de endeble, de exinanido y de nost谩lgico. La torre de la Catedral sobresal铆a al fondo como un capit谩n de un ej茅rcito de piedra. En su derredor las moles, en blanco y negro, de la torre de Velasco, del torre贸n de los Guzmanes, del Mos茅n Rub铆... 脕vila emerg铆a de la nieve m铆stica y escandalosamente blanca, como una monja o una ni帽a vestida de primera comuni贸n. Ten铆a un sello antiguo, herm茅tico, de maciza solidez patriarcal. La villa, centrada en plena y opulenta civilizaci贸n, era como una armadura detonando en una reuni贸n de fraques. Imagin茅 que no otra, en todo el mundo, pod铆a ser la cuna de Santa Teresa. Porque su esp铆ritu impregnaba, una por una, cada una de sus piedras y sus torres.”
― Miguel Delibes, La sombra del cipr茅s es alargada

“Es verdad;pues reprimamos
esta fiera condici贸n,
esta furia, esta ambici贸n,
por si alguna vez so帽amos;
y s铆 haremos, pues estamos
en mundo tan singular,
que el vivir s贸lo es so帽ar;
y la experiencia me ense帽a
que el hombre que vive sue帽a
lo que es hasta despertar.

Sue帽a el rey que es rey, y vive
con este enga帽o mandando.
disponiendo y gobernando;
y este aplauso, que recibe
prestado, en el viento escribe,
y encenizas le convierte
la muerte,隆desdicha fuerte!:
驴que hay quien intente reinar,
viendo que ha de despertar
en el sue帽o de la muerte?

Sue帽a el rico en su riqueza
que m谩s cuidados le ofrece;
sue帽a el pobre que padece
su miseria y su pobreza;
sue帽a el que a medrar empieza,
sue帽a el que afana y pretende,
sue帽a el que agravia y ofende,
y en el mundo, en conclusi贸n,
todos sue帽an lo que son,
aunque ninguno lo entiende.

Yo sue帽o que estoy aqu铆
destas prisiones cargado,
y so帽茅 que en otro estado
m谩s lisonjero me vi.
驴Qu茅 es la vida?,Un frenes铆,
驴Qu茅 es la vida?, una ilusi贸n,
una sombra, una ficci贸n,
y el mayor bien es peque帽o;
que toda la vida es sue帽o,
y los sue帽os, sue帽os son.”
― Pedro Calder贸n de la Barca, La vida es sue帽o

“Happiness is an abstraction, it is a product of the imagination, it is a way of being moved, which depends entirely on our way of seeing and feeling.”
― Marquis de Sade, Gothic Tales of the Marquis de Sade

“Before you were born, you were nothing more than an indistinguishable lump of unformed matter. After death, you simply will return to that nebulous state. You are going to become the raw material out of which new beings will be fashioned. Will there be pain in this natural process? No! Pleasure? No! Now, is there anything frightening in this? Certainly not! And yet, people sacrifice pleasure on earth in the hope that pain will be avoided in an after-life. The fools don't realize that, after death, pain and pleasure cannot exist: there is only the sensationless state of cosmic anonymity: therefore, the rule of life should be ... to enjoy oneself!”
― Marquis de Sade

“Beauty belongs to the sphere of the simple, the ordinary, whilst ugliness is something extraordinary, and there is no question but that every ardent imagination prefers in lubricity, the extraordinary to the commonplace”
― D.A.F. Marquis de Sade, The 120 Days of Sodom and Other Writings

“...and above all, you should not think of writing as a way of earning your living. If you do, your work will smell of your poverty. It will be colored by your weakness and be as thin as your hunger. There are other trades which you can take up: make boots, not books.”
― Marquis de Sade