The love of animals is the one true love in which one is never disappointed.
... for how could he describe what so weighed him down, how could he explain how long ago he had given up the idea of thought, the point at which he first understood the way things were and knew that any sense we had of existence was merely a reminder of the incomprehensible futility of existence, a futility that would repeat itself ad infinitum, to the end of time and that, no, it wasn't a matter of chance and its extraordinary, inexhaustible, triumphant, unconquerable power working to bring matters to birth or annihilation, but rather the matter of a shadowy demonic purpose, something embedded deep in the heart of things, in the texture of the relationship between things, the stench of whose purpose filled every atom, that it was a curse, a form of damnation, that the world was the product of scorn, and god help the sanity of those who called themselves thinkers.
... and whereas our techniques—having realized in the wake of our sorry experiences that we were not questing heroes but merely dumb victims of the thinking mind—were based on paraphiliac fulfillment, unbridled pursuit of pleasure, the ceaseless apocatastasis of an eden missing from primal imagination, and took refuge in transgression, herman's deliberately paltry means were called into being by hubris, a hubris that believed in the invincibility of weakness.
He couldn't write about anything, for really, what could he possibly do with his hopelessly complex, labyrinthine thoughts and sentences, but never mind.
There is nothing that is more hopeless in this world than the so-called South-western regional bus station in Nanjing on 5 May 2002, shortly before seven o'clock in the drizzling rain and the unspeakably icy wind...
What has occurred is that in those places where in principle there still might be some trace of classical culture -- subordinated in the course of reconstruction to the inferior values of the tourist industry -- he, Stein, has come upon monuments almost everywhere essentially destroyed: instead of something real, he saw forgeries, instead of truth, he took part in deception, and it's as if he still could really speak of the reasons for his disillusionment.
At one time, according to the descriptions, the accounts, and the drawings, the temples here were magnificent, and although only a fragment of the buildings still stand today, and -- looking at them from far -- still in probably the best of conditions, as they come closer, and walk by all of them, and once again are confronted with the infinite damage done by the system of reconstruction in the new China, the monstrosity of crudely vulgar taste, the implacable lack of understanding, and the plethora of ignoble results, so radically at odds with the refined sensibilities the authentic Chinese spirit, more and more they fall into a kind of enraged despair, which then is transformed into the deepest repugnance [.....] (T)hey are not viewing Jiangtian, but rather they have been dropped into a safari park, where nothing is real, where everything has to be paid for, it turns out that here every building is new and fake, and every louhan, every so-called Buddha and every Bodhisattva is new and fake, and every wood join in every column and every centimetre of golden paint is brand-new and fake, so accordingly the whole thing is fraudulent.
And he is appalled by what is going on so often in these temples and monasteries. Everything reeks from money. High entrance fees are collected -- entrance fees ! at the gates, impossible things are for sale, fake rubbish, the meanest religious kitsch, the faithful are made to throw money into the collection box, and in the evening they spill it out, and count it up nicely and accurately, they count up the takings ... ! And these are not simply vendors, but monks ... ! Venerable abbot, László Stein involuntarily lowers his head, this is so sad.
In today's world, the connection between tradition and everyday life has been shattered.
Not only on 5 May 2002 is Nanjing hopeless, Nanjing is always hopeless, because there is nothing, really nothing that is more hopeless than Nanjing.
