“Pathos, piety, courage, — they exist, but are identical, and so is filth. Everything exists, nothing has value.”

he is continually informing — and filling some other body.
Letter to Richard Woodhouse (October 27, 1818)
Letters (1817–1820)

After the Ending
Lyrics, The Empyrean (2009)

Source: Cosmology, philosophy and physics

Molloy (1951)

Source: Orlando

Source: Turning to one another (2002), p. 19

The Tragic Sense of Life (1913), V : The Rationalist Dissolution
Context: A terrible thing is intelligence. It tends to death as memory tends to stability. The living, the absolutely unstable, the absolutely individual, is strictly unintelligible. Logic tends to reduce everything to identities and genera, to each representation having no more than one self-same content in whatever place, time or relation it may occur to us. And there is nothing that remains for two successive moments of its existence. My idea of God is different each time that I conceive it. Identity, which is death, is the goal of the intellect. The mind seeks what is dead, for what is living escapes it; it seeks to congeal the flowing stream in blocks of ice; it seeks to arrest it. In order to analyze a body it is necessary to extenuate or destroy it. In order to understand anything it is necessary to kill it, to lay it out rigid in the mind.

Anathemas and Admirations (1987)