33 Quotes by Nick Land

  • Author Nick Land
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    They call me a goddess because of that – because coldness is my only soul, durably extinct, as you are unable to be.

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  • Author Nick Land
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    Far from being the acme of religion – let alone its telic blossoming – God is the principle of its suppression. The unity of theos is the tombstone of sacred zero, the crumbling granitic foundation of secular destitution.

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  • Author Nick Land
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    One ‘is’ a genius only in the sense that one ‘is’ a syphilitic, in the sense that ‘one’ is violently problematized by a ferocious exteriority. One returns to the subject of which genius has been predicated to find it charred and devastated beyond recognition.

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  • Author Nick Land
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    One ascends into profundity, but profundity is nothing but a complication of the shallows, and ‘one’ is nowhere.

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  • Author Nick Land
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    Dead labour is far harder to control than the live stuff was, which is why the enlightenment project of interring gothic superstition was the royal road to the first truly vampiric civilization, in which death alone comes to rule.

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  • Author Nick Land
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    Whenever its name has been anything but a jest, philosophy has been haunted by a subterranean question: What if knowledge were a means to deepen unknowing?

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  • Author Nick Land
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    Philosophy, in its longing to rationalize, formalize, define, delimit, to terminate enigma and uncertainty, to co-operate wholeheartedly with the police, is nihilistic in the ultimate sense that it strives for the immobile perfection of death. But creativity cannot be brought to an end that is compatible with power, for unless life is extinguished, control must inevitably break down. We possess art lest we perish of the truth.

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  • Author Nick Land
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    Matter signals to its lost voyagers, telling them that their quest is vain, and that their homeland already lies in ashes behind them.

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  • Author Nick Land
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    The unconscious does not coo sweet lyrics or unroll immaculate and measured prose, it howls and raves like the shackled and tortured beast that our civilization has made of it, and when the fetters are momentarily loosened the unconscious does not thank the ego for this meagre relief, but hisses, spits, and bites, as any wild thing would.

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