A story.

So Schopenhauer is darkly Schopenhauerista. But only penetrates the celebrity, and his wretched nerves calm down, and about a peace lovely, is not there then, around Frankfurt, bourgeoise more optimistic, more Jocunda face, and boasting more regrade the property of the intellect and Life!. .. And the other, the Israelite, the very pedantic king of Jerusalem! this sublime rhetoric when he discovers that the world is illusion and vanity? At seventy-five years, when the power slipping from his hands trembling, and his seraglio of three hundred concubines if he makes it ridiculously superfluous. Then break the pompous whining! All is vanity and affliction of mind! nothing is stable under the sun! With EFFECT, my good Solomon, it is mainly the power-to-use three hundred concubines! But what if this restores the old Sultan asian, smeared with literature, his manhood, and where it will disappear-the wail of Ecclesiastes? Then again, in the second and triumphal issue, the rapture of the Book of Song! …

Thus spoke my friend in the night silence de Tormes. I believe he established on the Pessimism joviaes other things, profound or elegant, but I-[249] asleep, blissfully wrapped in optimism and sweetness.

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