Apr

8

 A good friend told me, "The longer you live, the closer you are to dying." I got a good laugh from that one.

Ken Drees adds: 

or, "Life, its designed to kill you".

Victor Niederhoffer comments: 

There is great deep truth in this as applied to markets. Although like the micro organism the body likes to let into the body, a slow death is programmed so that the maximum of chips can be obtained from you, and other poor fool humans will maintain hope so that they can sustain the similar microorganisms that will appropriately sap away the life of other market players. Thus, what started out as a joke has all too much applicability. The purpose of the Market. Ha, it's to take away the chips from the weak, so that the flexions and other top feeders can prosper. That's a terrible but beautiful thought, I think.


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  1. Don Chu on April 9, 2011 8:06 pm

    Annie Dillard on Life, Fecundity, Chance, and Death:

    I don’t know what it is about fecundity that so appalls. I suppose it is the teeming evidence that birth and growth, which we value, are ubiquitous and blind, that life itself is so astonishingly cheap, that nature is as careless as it is bountiful, and that with extravagance goes a crushing waste that will one day include our own cheap lives. Every glistening egg is a memento mori.

    […]

    As far as lower animals go, if you lead a simple life you probably face a boring death. Some animals, however, lead such complicated lives that not only do the chances for any one animal’s death at any minute multiply greatly but so also do the varieties of the deaths it might die. The ordained paths of some animals are so rocky they are preposterous. The horsehair worm in the duck pond, for instance, wriggling so serenely near the surface, is the survivor of an impossible series of squeaky escapes.

    […]

    Evolution loves death more than it loves you or me. This is easy to write, easy to read, and hard to believe. The words are simple, the concept clear–but you don’t believe it, do you? Nor do I. How could I, when we’re both so lovable?

    […]

    The world has signed a pact with the devil; it had to. It is a covenant to which every thing, even every hydrogen atom, is bound. The terms are clear: if you want to live, you have to die; you cannot have mountains and creeks without space, and space is a beauty married to a blind man. The blind man is Freedom, or Time, and he does not go anywhere without his great dog Death. The world came into being with the signing of the contract. A scientist calls it the Second Law of Thermodynamics. A poet says, “The force that through the green fuse drives the flower/ Drives my green age.” This is what we know. The rest is gravy.

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