Sunday, October 13, 2013

Lacrimae rerum

That's a phrase from Virgil's Aeneid.

Sunt lacrimae rerum et mentem mortalia tangunt
There are the tears of things and mortal things touch the mind.

For a man of my character, the beauty of an autumn afternoon can provoke this melancholy. The impermanence of things, of love, of memory, and all of life's dissatisfactions and failures. It is odd that a Sunday of sunshine and the pleasures of city life can bring it on, even more acutely than a gloomy Monday full of rain.



Anonymous said...

I think I had a similar experience once. Driving past the old graveyard near my house on a sunny day a couple months ago, I was suddenly struck by a sudden crushing appreciation of the fact that one day, everybody I cared about would be dead, and if I was (un?)lucky, I would have to experience the pain of losing each one of them before I died in turn. And suddenly, I understood why some people greet Thanatos like an old friend when he comes to reave our souls and carry us to the Stranger: because they can no longer endure the pain of loss anymore.

Life is the strangest, most precious, most unique gift any person could hope for. That's why the price of it is so steep.


DearAbe said...

Can't you just go out and get a beer?

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