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Quote by Monika Ajay Kaul

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Monika Ajay Kaul

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“Luck in life is self-generated. You see more when you know more. You get more if you work more. But the billions of people on this planet will disagree with what I just said and invent some idiotic theory to comfort their ignorance on what life truly is. In fact, they will deny any of your efforts, and the harder you work, the more they will question your morality and claim some special secret to your results that they too could get if they knew about it. The average person is so immersed in their own ego that they can't possibly grasp all the unimaginable parts of reality. Reality is largely inaccessible and therefore unreal. The more you talk about it, the less you are understood, the more you are seen as a madman. Because those who don't know have to comfort their ignorance for lack of better options. Eventually, there comes a point in life when no explanation can sustain what you had before, including your ability to explain yourself to others. In fact, the more you say or try to explain, the more jealousy and slander you get. It is predestined that the more one works to better himself, the more hatred he receives from the vast masses of mediocre minds. Isolation is then not a choice, but a fate that precedes extraordinary success. One must experience it for one's own sanity, but also to fulfill what one has planted in one's soul. It must happen that the people who change the world the most are the most hated by the same people they help. As such, we must then assume that friends are for fools, as fertilizer is for plants. A real person is hardly understood by the masses. He is lucky if he finds a real friend. But as soon as he realizes that his friend is on the same intellectual level as he is, even that is proven to be predestined.”

LifeRealityWorkEffortKnowledgeIgnoranceEgoLuckJealousySelf Generated
Author:Dan Desmarques
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“As seemed to be the theme of his days recently, Danny was questioning his reality, questioning his dreams, questioning his mind, questioning what was real, what was imagined, and then questioning why. “It’s as real as you want it to be, Danny,” barked that voice again that definitely wasn’t his. He was feeling displaced, like an outsider, as though he were simply doing a pale impersonation of himself. And not even a good impersonation either, with steps too long, breaths too quick, smile too wide, blinks too slow. Get a hold of yourself, idiot. So he searched the room, searched his world, interrogating the shadows, prodding the corners, acknowledging the spaces, seeking for something to ground himself.”

LifeRealityDeathLossIdentitySanityQuestionsDysfunction
Book:Dysfunction
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