“For what is man in nature? A nothing in comparison with the infinite, a whole in comparison with the nothing, a mean between nothing and everything.” – Blaise Pascal, Pensées What strange defiance is this: that the soul, knowing well its fragility, clings still to life? That we, bound in bodies destined to wither, fight against the pull of the abyss? What force keeps the trembling heart beating, even when sorrow presses against the ribs like an iron band? What makes a man, weary of toil and loss, rise again with the sun, unwilling to surrender? The question – Why keep this transient spirit in this perishable frame? – is not merely a philosophical riddle but a cry from the deepest chambers of the human condition. It is the plea of every suffering soul, the whispered anguish of the broken-hearted, the silent query of the lonely and the lost. It is the question asked in hospital rooms and warzones, in sleepless nights and moments of unbearable grief. It is the unuttered...
Why Keep This Transient Spirit in This Perishable Frame? – A Philosophical Enquiry into Being and Nothingness
“For what is man in nature? A nothing in comparison with the infinite, a whole in comparison with the nothing, a mean between nothing and everything.” – Blaise Pascal, Pensées What strange defiance is this: that the soul, knowing well its fragility, clings still to life? That we, bound in bodies destined to wither, fight against the pull of the abyss? What force keeps the trembling heart beating, even when sorrow presses against the ribs like an iron band? What makes a man, weary of toil and loss, rise again with the sun, unwilling to surrender? The question – Why keep this transient spirit in this perishable frame? – is not merely a philosophical riddle but a cry from the deepest chambers of the human condition. It is the plea of every suffering soul, the whispered anguish of the broken-hearted, the silent query of the lonely and the lost. It is the question asked in hospital rooms and warzones, in sleepless nights and moments of unbearable grief. It is the unuttered...