If you worship money and things — if they are where you tap real meaning in life — then you will never have enough. Never feel you have enough. It’s the truth. Worship your own body and beauty and sexual allure and you will always feel ugly, and when time and age start showing, you will die a million deaths before they finally plant you. On one level, we all know this stuff already — it’s been codified as myths, proverbs, clichés, bromides, epigrams, parables: the skeleton of every great story. The trick is keeping the truth up-front in daily consciousness. Worship power — you will feel weak and afraid, and you will need ever more power over others to keep the fear at bay. Worship your intellect, being seen as smart — you will end up feeling stupid, a fraud, always on the verge of being found out. And so on.”
― David Foster Wallace, This Is Water: Some Thoughts, Delivered on a Significant Occasion, about Living a Compassionate Life
Tag: money
Her, this word that explodes.
What really connects words and things?
Not much, decided my husband and proceeded to use language in the way that Homer says the gods do. All human words are known to the gods but have for them entirely other meanings alongside our meanings. They flip the switch at will.
My husband lied about everything.
Money, meetings, mistresses, the birthplace of his parents, the store where he bought shirts, the spelling of his own name. He lied when it was not necessary to lie. He lied when it wasn’t even convenient. He lied when he knew they knew he was lying.
He lied when it broke their hearts. My heart. Her heart. I often wonder what happened to her. The first one. There is something pure-edged and burning about the first infidelity in a marriage. Taxis back and forth. Tears. Cracks in the wall where it gets hit. Lights on late at night. I cannot live without her.
Her, this word that explodes. Lights still on in the morning.
Anne Carson
living beautifully in the mind 