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" "When at the beginning of the so-called modern age, at the Renaissance, the pagan sense of religion came to life again, it took the concrete form in the knightly ideal with its codes of conduct of love and honor. But it was a paganism Christianized, baptized. "Woman — la donna — was the divinity enshrined within those savage breasts. Whosoever will investigate the memorials of primitive times will find this ideal of woman in its full force and purity; the Universe is woman.
Miguel de Unamuno y Jugo (29 September 1864 – 31 December 1936) was a Spanish essayist, novelist, poet, playwright and philosopher.
Biography information from Wikiquote
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What we really long for after death is to go on living this life, this same mortal life, but without its ills without its tedium, and without death. Seneca, the Spaniard, gave expression to this in his Consolatio ad Marciam... And what but that is the meaning of that comic conception of the eternal recurrence which issued from the tragic soul of poor Nietzsche, hungering for concrete and temporal immortality?
And what is its moral proof? We may formulate it thus: Act so that in your own judgment and in the judgment of others you may merit eternity, act so that you may become irreplaceable, act so that you may not merit death. Or perhaps thus: Act as if you were to die tomorrow, but to die in order to survive and be eternalized. The end of morality is to give personal, human finality to the Universe; to discover the finality that belongs to it — if indeed it has any finality — and to discover it by acting.
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Serenado um pouco, abriu o livro e retomou a leitura. Esqueceu-se de si próprio por completo e bem podia então dizer que morrera. Sonhava no outro, ou melhor, o outro era um sonho que nele se sonhava, uma criatura da sua infinita solidão. Até que despertou com uma terrível pontada no peito. A personagem do livro acabara de lhe dizer de novo: «Devo repetir ao leitor que comigo morrerá.». E desta vez o efeito foi espantoso. O trágico leitor perdeu o conhecimento naquele seu leito de sofrimento espiritual; deixou de sonhar no outro e deixou de sonhar-se a si mesmo. E quando voltou a si, lançou fora o livro, apagou a luz e procurou adormecer, deixar de sonhar. Impossível! De quando em quando tinha de levantar-se para beber água; ocorreu-lhe que bebia no Sena, no espelho. «Estarei louco? - repetia -. Certamente que não, porque quando uma pessoa se pergunta se está louca é porque não está...». Levantou-se, pegou-lhe o fogo na lareira e queimou o livro, voltando em seguida a deitar-se. E conseguiu finalmente adormecer.