the paralytic virility of an empty admiration for the empty room

 She said: “The exaggerated emphasis on the possibility of loving or loving again (as in our case) inevitably tends toward evil, toward the narrowing of life absorbed in the affairs of the unbalanced ego, toward an unmistakable taste of energy badly applied to every novelty in life, every convulsive beginning of something new exhaling a cursed note of previous lamentation, for the simple fact that the ego has not been able to postpone certain attempts or occasions for a more propitious, less frustrating energetic moment, where greater forms of psychic organization confer a definitive coherence to the sticky matters that keep the heart closed in its own absurd idea of ​​self, which madly includes others.”

...

And if now, faced with such memories, I shrug my shoulders and laugh, it is because I already admit that there are many other ways to spend an afternoon. Capiche?, to fill entire afternoons with the mental weight of other people’s ideas and knowledge --- what nourishment! The totally unscrupulous anthropophagic incorporation, absorbing so perfectly, so flawlessly, as much as immediately claiming what, heated in a new crucible, becomes by right only his, part of his Teatrum Alquimicum. How many spontaneous attacks disguised here on social instincts, the whole of Nietzsche seems disguised here, in this individualistic, vampiric glory of the sedentary use of self, in the paralytic virility of an empty admiration for the empty room.