Pity the wood that finds itself a violin. Pity the thought that finds itself man.


He thinks it must be due to faulty metaphysics from calculative reckoning gone awry that there is evil in the world. The thought that one knows better, that one is better. When asked if evil exists, he responded no. Existence for him names the being that remains even outside the register of human consciousness: the cat, the stone. They exist despite what Heidegger tried to convince his readers of. Evil does not exist. But nevertheless, there is evil, which is solely within the possibility of human being. Weather is not evil. The viperine poison that arrests the heart is not evil. Only man is evil. No: only man can be evil. Man has kicked the dog, pulled the worm in half. The poignant tragedy and terrible paradox of human being is that life becomes more precious after the disaster of evil, even more so than life before. Such preciousness, however, cannot prevent evil’s next advance. Until man learns to unthink evil.