Fragments/Journal - Notes on Literary Movements

We must imagine ourselves in those dwindling hours when even mechanisation becomes bound to necessity. The dwindling stores of ammunition, the tired figures ready to cower before exhaustion, with only the will of victory carrying them forward - where each pull of the trigger requires the blessing of time, a decisive cutting down of the enemy into beauty. Within these late hours of the day's turning to morning we must find that will to live where nothing else can. We cannot merely survive, but sacrifice more than any other ever has, all while living and maintaining a duty to honour. Perhaps the formula will be found in the final shell ejected into the mud, or we bleed out while scribbling short notes to loved ones - only to be found years later beneath the wildflowers, whether in the precise digging of an archaeologist or the clumsy footsteps of a farmer it is no matter. Truth is never bound to certainty, and our efforts in keeping it alive may be more significant than any materialisation of law or cultural fragment. This was perhaps Nietzsche's greatest lesson, the power of sense over meaning.

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Where even if burning the mass stores of books were a possibility - without questioning the moral or strategic value - we cannot. We live amidst the tide of information wherein cultural production is merely a single form.

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Romanticism was the failure of classical ideas to endure modern technicity, the total siege of the ancient world by the individual.