Category Archives: quotes

>Francis Parker Yockey

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In this century it is of scant importance what language a European speaks and in what geographic area he was brought up. Of importance only is the spirituality that permeates his inner life.
[…]In this century the idea of vertical race is dead. We can now view race only in horizontal terms – the race one feels in oneself is everything. The anatomic-geographic group to which one belongs means nothing.
[…]Our touchstone of comradeship and belonging is spiritual-ethical, not the old one of birth-place, cephalic-index, eye-colour. In the 20th century, the century of elective affinities, materialistic tests are pure stupidity.
The Enemy of Europe (1953)

These are the words of Francis Parker Yockey, American born philosopher (who highly praised European high culture), most often labelled fascist, Nazi revivalist, anti-Semite, anti-American and far right mystery man.
I tend to enjoy reading about these guys and their ideas. I’m fascinated by their explicit ways of looking at the world, I find it dedicated and to the point (even though often narrow-mindedly romantic), whereas the mainstream equivalent philosophers and historians are extremely limited when it comes to sensitive subjects due to their political correctness. They often end up straight hypocritical or plain lame and grovelling, and I find that a waste of time.
I do not necessarily agree with everything I read, be it Spengler, Nietzsche, Pound, Yockey or whatever politically incorrect dude you might find in here. However, when I find something of importance to me, I treat it as I treat all kinds of knowledge. I don’t care if it’s right, left, wrong… As long as it means something to me it is of relevance. Simple as that.
And I think the above quote proves just that; even though you’re a dick in the public eye, you still might have some interesting stuff to communicate.

Here’s a review of the Yockey biography Dreamer of The Day (1999).

>Thoreau — Walden

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“The greater part of what my neighbors call good I believe in my soul to be bad, and if I repent of anything, it is very likely to be my good behavior. What demon possessed me that I behaved so well?”

Like most people ever interested in politics, independence and philosophy I’ve come to check out H.D. Thoreau every once in a while. I first read Thoreau back in 1989, when I was 14. I read Civil Disobedience, or Resistance to Civil Government as was its original publishing name in 1849, and it completely seduced my mind. Some of the first words are there forever: ”That government is best that governs not at all”, as well as ”I ask for, not at once no government, but at once a better government”. I believe that’s what started my political awareness/interest, reading a 140 year old lecture and finding so much modern truth. When I started reading about Holocaust revisionism some ten years ago and the way these revisionists are put in prison for asking questions I immediately remembered this quote as well: ”Under a government which imprisons any unjustly, the true place for a just man is also in prison”.

Walden or Life In The Woods (1854), appeared to me some years later, and I remember being quite disappointed since it lacked the immediate “instructions” and guidance I was hoping to find back then. Sure, I got the message, but I was looking for action, not contemplation.
Now, having recently seen the stunning movie Into The Wild, I picked up Walden and studied it again, this time with so much joy. It was as inspirational as when I first read Civil Disobedience, but on a completely different level. I found it quite cool to realize that a lot of the stuff he’s writing about in Walden is where my ideas are right now. It took me another 14 years to arrive there, and now I really appreciate Thoreau’s great piece of art.
I wonder where I’ll be in another 14 years… I’ve got so much more reading to do. Must prevail!

Check this page for thorough information about the man and his works.

Some excerpts from Walden:

There is no odor so bad as that which arises from goodness tainted. It is human, it is divine, carrion. If I knew for a certainty that a man was coming to my house with the conscious design of doing me good, I should run for my life, as from that dry and parching wind of the African deserts called the simoom, which fills the mouth and nose and ears and eyes with dust till you are suffocated, for fear that I should get some of his good done to me — some of its virus mingled with my blood. No — in this case I would rather suffer evil the natural way. A man is not a good man to me because he will feed me if I should be starving, or warm me if I should be freezing, or pull me out of a ditch if I should ever fall into one. I can find you a Newfoundland dog that will do as much. Philanthropy is not love for one’s fellow-man in the broadest sense.
[…]Some show their kindness to the poor by employing them in their kitchens. Would they not be kinder if they employed themselves there? You boast of spending a tenth part of your income in charity; maybe you should spend the nine tenths so, and done with it. Society recovers only a tenth part of the property then. Is this owing to the generosity of him in whose possession it is found, or to the remissness of the officers of justice?
Philanthropy is almost the only virtue which is sufficiently appreciated by mankind. Nay, it is greatly overrated; and it is our selfishness which overrates it.
[…]I would not subtract anything from the praise that is due to philanthropy, but merely demand justice for all who by their lives and works are a blessing to mankind. I do not value chiefly a man’s uprightness and benevolence, which are, as it were, his stem and leaves. Those plants of whose greenness withered we make herb tea for the sick serve but a humble use, and are most employed by quacks. I want the flower and fruit of a man; that some fragrance be wafted over from him to me, and some ripeness flavor our intercourse. His goodness must not be a partial and transitory act, but a constant superfluity, which costs him nothing and of which he is unconscious. This is a charity that hides a multitude of sins. The philanthropist too often surrounds mankind with the remembrance of his own castoff griefs as an atmosphere, and calls it sympathy. We should impart our courage, and not our despair, our health and ease, and not our disease, and take care that this does not spread by contagion.
[…]I believe that what so saddens the reformer is not his sympathy with his fellows in distress, but, though he be the holiest son of God, is his private ail. Let this be righted, let the spring come to him, the morning rise over his couch, and he will forsake his generous companions without apology. My excuse for not lecturing against the use of tobacco is, that I never chewed it, that is a penalty which reformed tobacco-chewers have to pay; though there are things enough I have chewed which I could lecture against. If you should ever be betrayed into any of these philanthropies, do not let your left hand know what your right hand does, for it is not worth knowing. Rescue the drowning and tie your shoestrings. Take your time, and set about some free labor.
Our manners have been corrupted by communication with the saints. Our hymn-books resound with a melodious cursing of God and enduring Him forever. One would say that even the prophets and redeemers had rather consoled the fears than confirmed the hopes of man. There is nowhere recorded a simple and irrepressible satisfaction with the gift of life, any memorable praise of God. All health and success does me good, however far off and withdrawn it may appear; all disease and failure helps to make me sad and does me evil, however much sympathy it may have with me or I with it. If, then, we would indeed restore mankind by truly Indian, botanic, magnetic, or natural means, let us first be as simple and well as Nature ourselves, dispel the clouds which hang over our own brows, and take up a little life into our pores. Do not stay to be an overseer of the poor, but endeavor to become one of the worthies of the world.
I read in the Gulistan, or Flower Garden, of Sheik Sadi of Shiraz, that “they asked a wise man, saying: Of the many celebrated trees which the Most High God has created lofty and umbrageous, they call none azad, or free, excepting the cypress, which bears no fruit; what mystery is there in this? He replied, Each has its appropriate produce, and appointed season, during the continuance of which it is fresh and blooming, and during their absence dry and withered; to neither of which states is the cypress exposed, being always flourishing; and of this nature are the azads, or religious independents. — Fix not thy heart on that which is transitory; for the Dijlah, or Tigris, will continue to flow through Bagdad after the race of caliphs is extinct: if thy hand has plenty, be liberal as the date tree; but if it affords nothing to give away, be an azad, or free man, like the cypress.”

>Humanism without humans

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Peter Sotos — controversial writer, thinker and musician, probably most famous for being arrested for obscenity because of his fanzine Pure (1984), as well as being a member of the power electronics group Whitehouse — is a man I’ve taken great interest in, pretty much because of what he says in interviews and what you can read between the lines in his explicit works.
Total Abuse is a collection of nearly all of Sotos’ texts between 1984–1995 (including Pure, Tool. and Parasite), and what I find most interesting with this book is the interview and introduction made by Jim Goad. I wrote about this in the paper issue of Ny Moral #1.

Here’s an excerpt from the interview where he talks about humanism and humanity.

Jim Goad: I’d like you to comment on this [line] from PARASITE #5: “Like most humanism, it conveniently doesn’t include humans.” Where has humanism gone astray? What are they not understanding about humanity?

Peter Sotos: Well, I think we’ve been talking about it, really. These people have these dreams and fantasies, it’s like people who decide when they’re two, or when they’re going to their first prom, they decide, “You know, mom, I wanna have a really high-paying job, and I want to have two kids, and someone who loves me, and go out on Friday nights to balls and dances”, whatever they think, I don’t know. And just their whole life shows you that that’s not gonna happen… And they still cling to these things, not as sort of dreams or fantasies, by the end they’re just these sorts of religious beliefs… And humanists, people who are just so concerned with the human element, with others and everyone’s care and concern, so boggled by the actual information that exists. But once again, you say this sort of stuff, and you sound as if you’re — as if I’m — upset. When, you know, the opposite is true. I’ve come to this from — it just seems obvious to me… People aren’t going to have these rosy little lives.

It seems like it’s wishful thinking that gets misunderstood as some kind of ontological verity.

Yeah, right. They’re dedicated to, you know, “Well, this was promised to me.” And they drive themselves crazy. But the thing is, I do like what life has to offer. I don’t want to sound like, “Nah, this is terrible. Why don’t these people wake up?” I mean, it really isn’t like that. I just think it’s a much more realistic viewpoint.

Read more about what Peter Sotos has to say right here.
And then read some more on the Fanzine site.

>Four quotes about books

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Four quotes about books from four of my favourite writers: Voltaire, Ezra Pound, E.M. Cioran and Franz Kafka.
Book autopsy by Brian Dettmer, an artist who carves into books, dissecting them and revealing their art…

What we find in books is like the fire in our hearths. We fetch it from our neighbor’s, we kindle it at home, we communicate it to others, and it becomes the property of all.
Voltaire

Certain books form a treasure, a basis, once read they will serve you for the rest of your lives.
Ezra Pound

A book should open old wounds, even inflict new ones. A book should be a danger!
E.M. Cioran



We need the books that affects us like a disaster, that grieve us deeply, like the death of someone we loved more than ourselves, like being banished into forests far from everyone, like a suicide. A book must be an axe for the frozen sea inside us.
Franz Kafka

>Sweden — a totalitarian regime?

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“I can’t imagine how this law is going to be able to meet the demands of the European Declaration of Human Rights”, said Privacy International’s vice secretary general David Banisar yesterday, almost mocking the FRA law.

Today Sweden took a giant step away from democracy towards totalitarianism. The FRA, who’s been monitoring our business illegally for years, was not punished by applicable law for doing so, but rewarded. The Swedish parliament ignored the facts, its people and common sense and voted yes in favour of the FRA law.
It’s too sick to be true, really. But it is.

I’ll let the words of Promoe speak for themselves.

Promoe: Prime Time

Prisoner code THX 1138
I’m a break the chains and lidigate Bill Gates
And Ricky Lake type intruders of your private life
It’s like they got a million private eyes in the public eye
Then they publicize double lies in a love disguise
Wolf in a sheep clothing, I just love these guys
Talking about freedom of speech, freedom of the word
It’s a well known fact you need cash to make yourself heard
With topics like this they don’t literally stop me
But I’d be happy to sell 20 000 copies
That don’t make no revolution, so what am I to do then?
Rather die looting, then get my message diluted
Dilemma, either you say nothing to a lot of people
Or you try and kick some sense to a minority of equals
Who already know what you know and don’t need to be schooled
While 85 % of the population keeps getting fooled

Massmedia misleading ya
All them press idiots gets greedier
Chasing headlines and deadlines, the truth left behind
It’s prime time and the blind lead the blind

They tried to drug me with TV, deceive and mislead me
But on the low though, I don’t keep what they feed me
Believe me, I throw it up like a bulimic
Don’t tell no one though or they’ll put me in a clinic
For brainwashing, they wanna stop my guys
With money and lies, they got the truth monopolized
Manipulate and pollute the mind states
Generations are mind-raped
My voice echoed off the Walls of Jericho and Berlin in the old days
Listen close and hear it now in your own hallways
It’s your baby brother quoting me, he got all tapes
Some youths of today want substance, not All Saints
Massmedia don’t wanna deal with the real issues
They want you to think, life is about chasing the riches
But that materialistic shit will fade away
Don’t get caught up in the modern day slavery trade

The unemployed no longer want to be used
Modern day slavery, computer rules
In the school system, of miseducation
The entertainment business of indoctrination
Capitalist interests, run the press and information
Highway to hell approaching, the end-station
At a faster pace than Formula 1 racing
Blaming the problems of society, on immigration
When Sweden make guns, export it to poor nations
Causing wars and starvations, killing Africans and Asians
Calling it “foreign relations” and it’s all annihilation
Yo, you force them to leave their homeland for an unknown land
Then look upon them as more barbaric than Conan
They ask you for work, and you say ‘no man, you can’t be trusted’
They walk down your street and get busted
By your so-called justice designed to chain minds
To put you in the lead, and the others behind
Well I will never trod your road again, never vote again
Cus you will use them as a scape goat again
I’ll raid your radio-show again, like once P.E.
Run up in your office screaming and raving play me!
I got the hottest beats out there courtesy of Embee
And rhymes with the message to set your mindstate free


>Prayin’ hard — Jim Goad

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“Let me get this straight — your religion preaches that two thousand years ago, a Middle Eastern virgin was impregnated by a ghost. And the spawn of this ethereal sperm grew up to walk on water and multiply bread loves and heal the sick and raise the dead and cast out literal demons. And this Love Child wasn’t just any ordinary spud, it was God incarnate who willingly submitted to a bloody S&M crucifiction to pay for OUR sins, when it would have been much easier (and less messy) if He’d merely made us sin-proof in the first place. And this Miracle Baby, son of a (cough) virgin, rose from the dead after three days and now gets very upset when heavy metal musicians slander His name. And Moses parted the Red Sea, Noah had an ark, God rained frogs on Egypt, and Joshua made the sun stand still. And even though Adam and Eve only gave birth to two boys (one of whom killed the other), the human race somehow fruitfully multiplied while avoiding the sin of incest. And remote Polynesian islanders will boil in molten lava eternally if they don’t embrace the gospel, even if they’ve never had a chance to hear the gospel. And the God who gave you a weenie will also zap you with a lightning bolt if thou darest toucheth the weenie which he didst create.
Is that it? Did I miss anything? Is this the horseshit you’re trying to peddle me? That’s not the Greatest Story Ever Told, it’s the craziest. And you tell me perhaps a third of the people on earth believe this fairy tale? Many of them are willing to kill or die for it? That’s frightening. You’re sure this isn’t some sort of sci-fi novel or supermarket-tabloid conspiracy theory?”

Jim Goad, The Redneck Manifesto

>E.M. Cioran: The Lure of Disillusion

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In the Talmud, a stupefying assertion: “The more men there are, the more images of the divine there are in nature.” This may have been true in the period when the remark was made, but it is belied today by all one sees and will be still further belied by all that will be seen.
E.M. Cioran, The Lure of Disillusion

To withdraw indefinitely into oneself, like God after the six days. Let us imitate Him, on this point at least.
E.M. Cioran, The Lure of Disillusion

>…show me a man who is good…

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This quote is from one of the greatest works I know, Les Chants de Maldoror, The Songs of Maldoror, by Lautréamont, written between 1868–1869.

Throughout my life, I have seen narrow-shouldered men, without a single exception, committing innumerable stupid acts, brutalizing their fellows and perverting souls by all means. They call the motive for their actions fame. Seeing these spectacles, I wanted to laugh like the others but I found that strange imitation impossible. I took a knife with a sharp steel cutting-edge on its blade and I slit my flesh where the lips join. For a moment I believed I had achieved my object. I looked in a mirror at this mouth disfigured by an act of my own will. It was a mistake! The blood flowing from the two wounds prevented me from discerning whether the laugh really was the same as others’. But after comparing them for a few moments I saw clearly that my laugh did not resemble that of human beings, i.e. I was not laughing at all. I have seen men, ugly men with their eyes sunk in dark sockets, surpassing the hardness of rock, the rigidity of cast steel, the insolence of youth, the senseless rage of criminals, the falseness of the hypocrite, the most extraordinary actors, the strenght of character of priests, beings whose real character is the most impenetrable, colder than anything else in heaven or on earth; I have seen them wearing out moralists who have attempted to discover their heart, and seen them bring upon themselves implacable anger from on high. I have seen them all now, the strongest fist raised towards heaven, like a child already disobedient towards its mother, probably incited by some spirit from hell, eyes full of the bitterest remorse, but at the same time of hatred: glacially silent, not daring to utter the vast ungrateful meditations hidden in their breasts, because those meditations were so full of injustice and horror; I have seen them grieve the God of mercy in his compassion; and again at every moment of the day, from their earliest childhood right up to the end of their old age, I have seen them uttering unbelievable anathemata, void of all common sense, against everything which breathes, against themselves, and against Providence; prostituting women and children, thus dishonouring the parts of the body consecrated to modesty. Then, the waters of the seas rise up, engulfing ships in their bottomless depths; hurricanes and earthquakes level houses; plague and all kinds of disease decimate families. But men do not realize this. I have seen them blushing, or turning pale for shame at their conduct on this earth – rarely. Tempests, sisters of hurricanes; bluish firmament, whose beauty I refuse to acknowledge; hypocritical sea, image of my own heart; earth, who hold mysteries hidden in your breast; the whole universe; God, who created it with such magnificence, it is thee I invoke: show me a man who is good… But at the same time increase my strenght tenfold: for at the sight of such a monster, I may die of astonishment: men have died of less.

>Music that matters: Massive Attack

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Emotions are tough to express in a sane way. It easily gets so very cheesy.
I know myself from reading song quotes where people say “OMG, this song really seems to be written specifically for me!” and I just go “Yeah, right!”. I guess you have to experience some seriously mindbending shit in life to be able to relate to cheesy stuff like that…
However, thinking about my personal situation right now where everything is just fucked up, when there’s no energy, no creativity, no pure thoughts going on – the things I’m used to – I was pretty moved by an old favourite song of mine. It fits right in there with the lyrics, the mood and just about everything. It also brings back memories to a time when “mainstream” music had some serious quality, substance and grace. Massive Attack did everything right in my ears and eyes: the music, the lyrics, the album covers, the videos… I find such quality very hard to find in the mainstream these days. It also reminds me of when they had to change their name to just Massive because of that stupid Gulf war in the early 90’s. How strange.

I know you probably can’t relate to this, because you don’t know me and what’s going on, but this song means a lot right now. However cheesy it may sound, the voice is speaking straight to me. Hehe, I’m laughing while writing this, cuz it’s kind of embarrassing, but fuck that…
Just sit back and listen to some good music and let it be.

Massive Attack — Protection (from the album with the same title released in 1994)
Dedicated to M and S.

This girl I know needs some shelter
She don’t believe anyone can help her
She’s doing so much harm, doing so much damage
But you don’t want to get involved
You tell her she can manage
And you can’t change the way she feels
But you could put your arms around her

I know you want to live yourself
But could you forgive yourself
If you left her just the way you found her

I stand in front of you
I’ll take the force of the blow
Protection

You’re a boy and I’m a girl
But you know you can lean on me

And I don’t have no fear
I’ll take on any man here
Who says that’s not the way it should be

I stand in front of you
I’ll take the force of the blow
Protection

She’s a girl and you’re a boy
Sometimes you look so small, look so small
You’ve got a baby of your own
When your baby’s grown, she’ll be the one
To catch you when you fall

I stand in front of you
I’ll take the force of the blow
Protection

You’re a girl and I’m a boy

Sometimes you look so small, need some shelter
Just runnin’ round and round, helter skelter
And I’ve leaned on you for years
Now you can lean on me
And that’s more than love
That’s the way
it should be
Now I can’t change the way you feel
But I can put my arms around you
That’s just part of the deal
That’s the way I feel
I put my arms around you

I stand in front of you
I’ll take the force of the blow
Protection

You’re a boy and I’m a girl

>85. Försynt erinran

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That which does not kill me, makes me stronger.
Nietzsche wrote that, and in times like these I can only submit to his wisdom…

In the words of Nikanor Teratologen, from the book Apsefiston:

  • Om du tänker på det mest förkrossande tillfället hittills i ditt liv, det mest utblottande ögonblicket, det som låg närmast förintelsens nödvändighet, så har du en bra utgångspunkt för att börja den verkliga bildningsgången.
  • De har redan skrivit över vad de pratat sönder av vad de ursprungligen inbillade sej att de tänkte säga. Om de undanskymmer och förnekar världens demoni och bestialitet, undfly dem.
  • Ett dysangelium, ett ont budskap, ett som gör ont att ta emot, är det med världsverkligheten närmast överensstämmande.
  • Endast i den mån den gjort motstånd existerar människan överhuvudtaget.

Tillägnat S, den bästa.