Figment
Open in Telegram
Pieces of drama, fiction, poetry, philosophy, music, and whatever a searching mind yearns to delve into. (This channel is under no obligation to make sense to you.) Music channel: @figmentelite @the_pharhad
Show more397
Subscribers
No data24 hours
No data7 days
-630 days
Data loading in progress...
Similar Channels
Tags Cloud
Incoming and Outgoing Mentions
---
---
---
---
---
---
Attracting Subscribers
September '26
September '26
+4
in 0 channels
August '26
+7
in 0 channels
Get PRO
July '26
+8
in 0 channels
Get PRO
June '26
+10
in 0 channels
Get PRO
May '26
+5
in 0 channels
Get PRO
April '26
+5
in 0 channels
Get PRO
March '26
+29
in 0 channels
Get PRO
February '26
+23
in 1 channels
Get PRO
January '26
+6
in 0 channels
Get PRO
December '25
+15
in 1 channels
Get PRO
November '25
+6
in 0 channels
Get PRO
October '25
+11
in 0 channels
Get PRO
September '25
+7
in 0 channels
Get PRO
August '25
+3
in 0 channels
Get PRO
July '25
+5
in 0 channels
Get PRO
June '25
+8
in 1 channels
Get PRO
May '25
+15
in 0 channels
Get PRO
April '25
+10
in 0 channels
Get PRO
March '25
+20
in 0 channels
Get PRO
February '25
+8
in 0 channels
Get PRO
January '25
+17
in 0 channels
Get PRO
December '24
+11
in 0 channels
Get PRO
November '24
+10
in 0 channels
Get PRO
October '24
+7
in 0 channels
Get PRO
September '24
+10
in 0 channels
Get PRO
August '24
+13
in 0 channels
Get PRO
July '24
+9
in 0 channels
Get PRO
June '24
+10
in 0 channels
Get PRO
May '24
+7
in 0 channels
Get PRO
April '24
+7
in 0 channels
Get PRO
March '24
+7
in 0 channels
Get PRO
February '24
+38
in 0 channels
Get PRO
January '24
+54
in 0 channels
Get PRO
December '23
+48
in 0 channels
Get PRO
November '23
+15
in 0 channels
Get PRO
October '23
+11
in 0 channels
Get PRO
September '23
+7
in 0 channels
Get PRO
August '23
+14
in 0 channels
Get PRO
July '23
+19
in 0 channels
Get PRO
June '23
+40
in 0 channels
Get PRO
May '23
+10
in 0 channels
Get PRO
April '23
+11
in 0 channels
Get PRO
March '23
+11
in 0 channels
Get PRO
February '23
+16
in 0 channels
Get PRO
January '23
+23
in 0 channels
Get PRO
December '22
+20
in 0 channels
Get PRO
November '22
+12
in 0 channels
Get PRO
October '22
+45
in 0 channels
Get PRO
September '220
in 0 channels
Get PRO
August '220
in 0 channels
Get PRO
July '220
in 0 channels
Get PRO
June '220
in 0 channels
Get PRO
May '220
in 0 channels
Get PRO
April '220
in 0 channels
Get PRO
March '220
in 0 channels
Get PRO
February '220
in 0 channels
Get PRO
January '220
in 0 channels
Get PRO
December '210
in 0 channels
Get PRO
November '210
in 0 channels
Get PRO
October '210
in 0 channels
Get PRO
September '210
in 0 channels
Get PRO
August '210
in 0 channels
Get PRO
July '210
in 0 channels
Get PRO
June '210
in 0 channels
Get PRO
May '21
+177
in 0 channels
| Date | Subscriber Growth | Mentions | Channels | |
| 08 September | +1 | |||
| 07 September | 0 | |||
| 06 September | 0 | |||
| 05 September | +1 | |||
| 04 September | 0 | |||
| 03 September | +1 | |||
| 02 September | 0 | |||
| 01 September | +1 |
Channel Posts
#fiction #tolkien #the_hobbit
"That was one of his most miserable moments. But he soon made up his mind that it was no good trying to do anything till day came with some little light, and quite useless to go blundering about tiring himself out with no hope of any breakfast to revive him. So he sat himself down with his back to a tree, and not for the last time fell to thinking of his far-distant hobbit-hole with its beautiful pantries. He was deep in thoughts of bacon and eggs and toast and butter when he felt something touch him. Something like a strong sticky string was against his left hand, and when he tried to move he found that his legs were already wrapped in the same stuff, so that when he got up he fell over. Then the great spider, who had been busy tying him up while he dozed, came from behind him and came at him. He could only see the thing's eyes, but he could feel its hairy legs as it struggled to wind its abominable threads round and round him. It was lucky that he had come to his senses in time. Soon he would not have been able to move at all. As it was, he had a desperate fight before he got free. He beat the creature off with his hands-it was trying to poison him to keep him quiet, as small spiders do to flies-until he remembered his sword and drew it out.
Then the spider jumped back, and he had time to cut his legs loose. After that it was his turn to attack. The spider evidently was not used to things that carried such stings at their sides, or it would have hurried away quicker. Bilbo came at it before it could disappear and stuck it with his sword right in the eyes. Then it went mad and leaped and danced and flung out its legs in horrible jerks, until he killed it with another stroke: and then he fell down and remembered nothing more for a long while.
There was the usual dim grey light of the forest-day about him when he came to his senses. The spider lay dead beside him, and his sword-blade was stained black. Somehow the killing of the giant spider, all alone by himself in the dark without the help of the wizard or the dwarves or of anyone else, made a great difference to Mr. Baggins. He felt a different person, and much fiercer and bolder in spite of an empty stomach, as he wiped his sword on the grass and put it back into its sheath.
"I will give you a name," he said to it, "and I shall call you Sting."
- The Hobbit, J.R.R. Tolkien
@figmentera
| 2 | #fragments #philosophy #nietzsche
To offend and be offended. It is much more agreeable to offend and later ask forgiveness than to be offended and grant forgiveness. The one who does the former demonstrates his power and then his goodness. The other, if he does not want to be thought inhuman, must forgive; because of this coercion, pleasure in the other’s humiliation is slight.
- Nietzsche
@figmentelite | 22 |
| 3 | #fragments #philosophy #nietzsche
Means of compensation. If we have injured someone, giving him the opportunity to make a joke about us is often enough to provide him
personal satisfaction, or even to win his good will.
————
Motive for attack. We attack not only to hurt a person, to conquer him, but also, perhaps, simply to become aware of our own strength.
- Nietzsche
@figmentera | 50 |
| 4 | #fragments #philosophy #nietzsche
"Degree of moral inflammability unknown. Whether or not our passions reach the point of red heat and guide our whole life depends on whether or not we have been exposed to certain shocking sights or impressions – for example a father falsely executed, killed or tortured; an unfaithful wife; a cruel ambush by an enemy. No one knows how far circumstances, pity, or indignation may drive him; he does not know the degree of his inflammability. Miserable, mean conditions make one miserable; it is usually not the quality of the experiences but rather the quantity that determines the lower and the higher man, in good and in evil."
- Nietzsche
@figmentera | 43 |
| 5 | #philosophy #fernando_pessoa
"After the heat began to wane at summer’s end, it sometimes happened in late afternoon that certain softer hues in the broad sky and certain strokes of cold breezes already signalled the coming of autumn. There was still no discolouring or falling of leaves, nor yet that vague anxiety we naturally feel when we see death all around us, since we know ours will also come. But there was a sort of flagging of all effort, a vague slumber fallen over the last signs of action. Ah, with so much sad indifference in these afternoons, the autumn begins in us before it begins in things.
Each new autumn is closer to the last autumn we’ll have, and the same is true of spring or summer; but autumn, by its nature, reminds us that all things will end, which is something we’re apt to forget when we look around us in spring or summer.
It’s still not autumn, there’s still no yellow of fallen leaves in the air, still none of that damp sadness that marks the weather when it’s on its way to becoming winter. But there is a hint of expected sadness – a sorrow dressed for the journey – in our hazy awareness of colours being smattered, of the wind’s different sound, of that ancient stillness which spreads in the falling night across the ineluctable presence of the universe."
- Fernando Pessoa
@figmentera | 43 |
| 6 | #philosophy #fernando_pessoa
"I’m not impressed should someone tell me that a certain man I consider crazy or stupid surpasses a common man in many achievements and particulars of life. Epileptics have amazing strength when they go into seizure; paranoiacs have an ability to reason that few normal men can match; religious maniacs bring multitudes of believers together as few (if any) demagogues can, and with a force of conviction that the latter can’t inspire in their followers. And all that this proves is that craziness is craziness. I prefer a defeat that knows the beauty of flowers to a victory in the desert, full of blindness in the soul, alone with its isolated nothingness."
- Fernando Pessoa
@figmentera | 30 |
| 7 | Chelsea Wolfe - Swallower.mp3 | 28 |
| 8 | #fragments #philosophy #nietzsche
"What one can promise. One can promise actions, but not feelings, for the latter are involuntary. He who promises to love forever or hate forever or be forever faithful to someone is promising something that is not in his power. He can, however, promise those actions that are usually the consequence of love, hatred, or faithfulness, but that can also spring from other motives: for there are several paths and motives to an action. A promise to love someone forever, then, means, ‘As long as I love you I will render unto you the actions of love; if I no longer love you, you will continue to receive the same actions from me, if for other motives.’ Thus the illusion remains in the minds of one’s fellow men that the love is unchanged and still the same. One is promising that the semblance of love will endure, then, when without self-deception one vows everlasting love."
- Nietzsche
@figmentera | 39 |
| 9 | #poetry
When I am Among the Trees
by Mary Oliver
When I am among the trees, especially the willows and the honey locust,
equally the beech, the oaks and the pines,
they give off such hints of gladness.
I would almost say that they save me, and daily.
I am so distant from the hope of myself,
in which I have goodness, and discernment,
and never hurry through the world but walk slowly, and bow often.
Around me the trees stir in their leaves
and call out, "Stay awhile."
The light flows from their branches.
And they call again, "It's simple," they say,
"and you too have come
into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled with light, and to shine."
@figmentera | 38 |
| 10 | #philosophy_now
"Is treating entities in the non-human realm as legal persons the only way for us to care about them and respond to worsening
ecological destruction?
The ‘ethics of attention’ developed by French philosopher Simone Weil (1909-1943) offers another path. For Weil, the root of our moral responsibility towards other humans lies not in their agency or their individuality, but in vulnerability. To recognise the value and dignity of other people requires acknowledging the shared vulnerability we all experience. Weil called this a matter of attention: to truly see others as they are, in their independence from us, in their unique needs, and their finitude, without folding them into our own comforting narratives."
- Darren McAndrew
@figmentera | 43 |
| 11 | #fragments #nietzsche
"You run on ahead? – Do you do so as a herdsman? or as an exception? A
third possibility would be as a deserter.… First question of conscience.
Are you genuine? or only an actor? A representative? or that itself which is
represented? – Finally you are no more than an imitation of an actor.… Second
question of conscience."
- Nietzsche
@figmentera | 51 |
| 12 | 05 - Meridian.mp3 | 46 |
| 13 | 04 - E2.mp3 | 1 |
| 14 | #fiction #john_steinbeck
"Time interval is a strange and contradictory matter in the mind. It would be reasonable to suppose that a routine time or an eventless time would seem interminable. It should be so, but it is not. It is the dull eventless times that have no duration whatever. A time splashed with interest, wounded with tragedy, crevassed with joy-that's the time the seems long in the memory. And this is right when you think about it. Eventlessness has no posts to drape duration on. From nothing to nothing is no time at all."
- East of Eden, John Steinbeck
@figmentera | 66 |
| 15 | #essay #psyche #aeon
"Several philosophers employ an image of warped wood to describe our moral character. Immanuel Kant wrote that ‘from such crooked timber as humankind is made nothing entirely straight can be made’. When Xunzi made his notorious declaration that human nature is evil, he said that we must be denatured, straightened like warped wood to correct our naturally twisted moral condition.
In Plato’s dialogue Protagoras, this image appears in a discussion about whether virtue can be taught. Protagoras offers a pedagogical sequence that is built around punishment and constraint, which are seemingly required because the student never comes to love what is choice-worthy. A student is given directives to ‘do this, and not do that. If he readily obeys, – so; but if not, they treat him as a bent and twisted piece of wood and straighten him with threats and blows.’
Aristotle also used the image of warped wood. He viewed moral virtue as a mean positioned between two vices – a vice of excess and a vice of deficiency. For example, courage is a mean between cowardice and rashness. Wittiness is the mean between buffoonery and boorishness. In the context of a virtue mean, the image of warped wood has interesting implications for character development.
In his Nicomachean Ethics, Aristotle offers advice for how to achieve the mean and attain virtue. First, we must notice the errors to which we are prone, since ‘different men are inclined by nature to different faults’. Then we should ‘drag ourselves away in the opposite direction, for by steering wide of our besetting error we shall make a middle course. This is the method adopted by carpenters to straighten warped timber.’"
- Taken from the Essay
https://psyche.co/ideas/sometimes-the-road-to-virtue-comes-by-way-of-vice
@figmentera | 71 |
| 16 | #the_hobbit #tolkien
"Now you can understand why Gandalf, listening to their (wild wolf called 'Wargs') growling and yelping, began to be dreadfully afraid, wizard though he was, and to feel that they were in a very bad place, and had not yet escaped at all. All the same he was not going to let them have it all their own way, though he could not do very much stuck up in a tall tree with wolves all round on the ground below. He gathered the huge pine-cones from the branches of the tree. Then he set one alight with bright blue fire, and threw it whizzing down among the circle of the wolves. It struck one on the back, and immediately his shaggy coat caught fire, and he was leaping to and fro yelping horribly. Then another came and another, one in blue flames, one in red, another in green. They burst on the ground in the middle of the circle and went off in coloured sparks and smoke. A specially large one hit the chief wolf on the nose, and he leaped in the air ten feet, and then rushed round and round the circle biting and snapping even at the other wolves in his anger and fright.
The dwarves and Bilbo shouted and cheered. The rage of the wolves was terrible to see, and the commotion they made filled all the forest. Wolves are afraid of fire at all times, but this was a most horrible and uncanny fire. If a spark got in their coats it stuck and burned into them, and unless they rolled over quick they were soon all in flames. Very soon all about the glade wolves were rolling over and over to put out the sparks on their backs, while those that were burning were running about howling and setting others alight, till their own friends chased them away and they fled off down the slopes crying and yammering and looking for water."
- The Hobbit, J.R.R. Tolkien
@figmentera | 57 |
| 17 | #philosophy #fernando_pessoa
"I sorely grieve over time’s passage. It’s always with exaggerated emotion that I leave something behind, whatever it may be. The miserable rented room where I lived for a few months, the dinner table at the provincial hotel where I stayed for six days, even the sad waiting room at the station where I spent two hours waiting for a train – yes, their loss grieves me. But the special things of life – when I leave them behind and realize with all of my nerves’ sensibility that I’ll never see or have them again, at least not in that exact same moment – grieve me metaphysically. A chasm opens up in my soul and a cold breeze of the hour of God blows across my pallid face.
Time! The past! Something – a voice, a song, a chance fragrance – lifts the curtain on my soul’s memories… That which I was and will never again be! That which I had and will never again have! The dead! The dead who loved me in my childhood. Whenever I remember them, my whole soul shivers and I feel exiled from all hearts, alone in the night of myself, weeping like a beggar before the closed silence of all doors."
- The Book of Disquiet, Fernando Pessoa
@figmentera | 56 |
| 18 | #philosophy #fernando_pessoa
"My destiny, which has pursued me like a malevolent creature, is to be able to desire only what I know I’ll never get. If I see the nubile figure of a girl in the street and imagine for the slightest moment, however nonchalantly, what it would be like if she were mine, it’s a dead certainty that ten steps past my dream she’ll meet the man who’s obviously her husband or lover. A romantic would make a tragedy out of this; a stranger to the situation would see it as a comedy; I, however, mix the two things, since I’m romantic in myself and a stranger to myself, and I turn the page to yet another irony.
Some say that without hope life is impossible, others that with hope it’s empty. For me, since I’ve stopped hoping or not hoping, life is simply an external picture that includes me and that I look at, like a show without a plot, made only to please the eyes – an incoherent dance, a rustling of leaves in the wind, clouds in which the sunlight changes colour, ancient streets that wind every which way around the city.
I am, in large measure, the selfsame prose I write. I unroll myself in sentences and paragraphs, I punctuate myself. In my arranging and rearranging of images I’m like a child using newspaper to dress up as a king, and in the way I create rhythm with a series of words I’m like a lunatic adorning my hair with dried flowers that are still alive in my dreams. And above all I’m calm, like a rag doll that has become conscious of itself and occasionally shakes its head to make the tiny bell on top of its pointed cap (a component part of the same head) produce a sound, the jingling life of a dead man, a feeble notice to Fate."
- The Book of Disquiet, Fernando Pessoa
@figmentera | 56 |
| 19 | #essay #psyche #aeon
I tell you this so you understand that when I finally met him – the man I thought I’d spend my life with – it felt like salvation. Like all the bad dates were worth it because they led me to him. He was funny, excitable, clever, handsome, kind. As one date turned into 10, I found a sense of safety I’d never really known. For almost three glorious years, I thought I had solved the puzzle.
And when it all fell apart? I can only describe it as a shattering. Not just of me, but of how I viewed the world. I thought that once you solved the puzzle it couldn’t break. That if you loved someone enough you could get through anything. Now he was standing on my doorstep saying: ‘I’m not in this anymore.’ It was unexpected and inexplicable. I abandoned our half-cooked dinner and sat on my bed staring out the window in shock. In one month, I would be 30. I felt like a tree that had been hit by lightning, only half alive, my branches burnt, my trunk scarred and split in two.
—————
It’s not just about wanting children, but about wanting someone to have them with. And while there’s space in our society for the grief of infertility, the grief of absent partnership is more ambiguous, more unseen. There are no funerals for lost relationships or past versions of ourselves.
—————
My inner feminist enjoyed challenging society’s message that fertility is a female burden for the female body, with no pressure put on men.
‘Do you ever worry that you’re running out of time?’ I asked a date, after telling him about my project.
‘No,’ he replied with a nonchalant shrug. ‘I figure my 30s are for having fun and building my career, and my 40s is when I’ll settle down.’
I launched into my spiel about how men have a body clock too, just not as intensely as women. Did he know that the risk of miscarriage increases by around 40 per cent for pregnancies fathered by men in their mid-40s? Had he read about the worldwide sperm decline, and the rise of male infertility? Would he feel differently if we talked about these things more, the way we do for women?
- Taken from the Essay
https://psyche.co/turning-points/the-grief-and-fragile-hope-of-deciding-to-freeze-my-eggs
@figmentera | 43 |
| 20 |  #poetry #nizar_qabbani #tivador_kosztka_csontvary
تسألنی حبیبتی:
"ماالفرق ما بینی و ما بین … السماء؟"
الفرق ما بینکما
انکی إن ضحکتی یا حبیبتی
أنسى السماء...
- نزار قباني
My lover asks me:
"What is the difference between me and the sky?"
The difference, my love,
Is that when you laugh,
I forget about the sky.
- Nizar Qabbani
—————-
Painting:
Rendezvous of Lovers, Tivador Kosztka Csontvary
@figmentera | 63 |
