Two weeks now I have been hiding in my cave, once again, reading books. Two weeks later, today, I find myself on the edge of a new cliff, higher than any which I've climbed onto before. With this depth confronting me, I am once again to bid farewell to the familiar world. Goodbye, world, goodbye! I have nothing to give to you that which you want from me. What I have is nothing that you need; what you have is nothing that I need. Hence I will now jump into the maddening depths of the soul again. Like Sisyphus, who is chained to his eternal task of rolling a rock up a hill only to have it roll back down nearing its finale, so will I climb my cliffs only to throw myself off the edges. I have no more dignity to offer you: what remains of it, please, let me hold on to it if only to offer myself a little pride for my despicable fate.
What is worse than an eternal recurrence is to regain consciousness of your existence.
What is worse than an eternal recurrence is to regain consciousness of your existence.
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