“Rather do we freely acknowledge that what remains after the entire abolition of will is for all those who are still full of will certainly nothing; but, conversely, to those in whom the will has turned and has denied itself, this our world, which is so real, with all its suns and milky ways – is nothing.”
Arthur lived in shadowlands;
His hated mother washed her hands
Of him, and his suicidal Dad’s
Echo – so he read Upanishads
And Kant, forming a new world-view
As bleak as stout, and yet he grew
Into determined sybarite,
The hope of Plato set in flight.
Not for him the hackneyed motto:
“quod approbo non reprobo,”
His fresh ‘gospel of resignation’*
“The World as Will and Representation”
Called the Will the thing-in-itself,
Put optimism on the shelf,
The Will is all, and always Evil:
Fight against that worldly Devil
And ultimately, welcome death: –
Dispensing with the shibboleth
Against its seeking, somehow thought
By Arthur to be tip-top sport.
Death will launch with its black sails
Whilst we repose on a bed of nails.
We doubt our sources more and more;
Senses, facts and qualms ignore:
And so, we remit, to Will
The life un-lived without the thrill.
(image by Tomruen)
[*Bertrand Russell, History of Western Philosophy (1946), p. 785.]