Death exposes me to myself
The Collected Works vol XI, p 287
After all, when my son dies, what is it that I feel? I am at a loss. He has gone away never to return, and I feel a sense of emptiness, loneliness. He was my son, in whom I had invested all my hope of immortality, of perpetuating the “me” and the “mine”; now that this hope of my own continuity has been taken away, I feel utterly desolate. So I really hate death; it is an abomination, a thing to be pushed aside, because it exposes me to myself. And I do push it aside, through belief, through various forms of escape.
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