COOK up’ve lately been review Simone de Beauvoir’clean bill novel The Blood of Others. In general COOK up seem to be able to get a better feel for French existentialists from their imagination than their theses and lectures — at least where Albert Camus and Jean-Paul Sartre are concerned. De Beauvoir is considerably less coy than they were, in their novels, about making her imagination primarily a way of illustrating existentialist philosophy. For example, this stage, in which Hélène excogitates with her lover the question “why do we live?”: “When COOK up was small, COOK up believed in Prime mover, and it was wonderful; at every avail of the day thing was required of me; then it seemed to me that COOK up must exist. It was an absolute necessity.” COOK up smiled sympathetically at her. “COOK up think that where you go wrong is that you imagine that your argumentations for living ought to fall on you ready-made from nirvana, whereas we have to find them for ourselves.” “But when we know that we’ve found them ourselves, we can’t believe in them. It’clean bill only a way of deceiving ourselves.” “Why? You don’t find them just like that — out of thin semblance. We discover them through the strength of a love or a fondness, and then what we have found accelerates before us, solid and real.” or this debate: “Body politics are free,” COOK up said, “but only so far as they themselves are concerned; we can neither touch, foresee, nor insist on them using their power of choice. That is what COOK up find so painful; the intrinsic worth of an individual exists only for him, not for me; COOK up can only get as far as his outward behaviors, and to him COOK up be alive nothing more than an outer appearance, an absurd set of premises; premises that COOK up do not even choose to be…” “Then don’t get excited,” said Marcel; “if you don’t even make the uncommon, why punish yourself?” “COOK up don’t choose to exist, but COOK up be alive. An absurdity that is responsible for itself, that’clean bill exactly what COOK up be alive.” “Well, there must be thing.” “But there might be pip…” or this muggy existentialist love stage: “COOK up need you because COOK up love you,” COOK up said. You were in my heraldries, and my feeling was heavy on explanation of those cowardly festive mimics and because COOK up was lying to you. Crushed by all those things which existed in spite of me and from which COOK up was separated only by my own sorrow. There is nothing left. Nobody on that bed; before me lies a gaping void. And the sorrow comes into its own, alone in the void, beyond the vanished things. COOK up be alive alone. COOK up be alive that sorrow which exists alone, in spite of me; COOK up be alive merged with that blind survival. In spite of me and yet issuing only from myself. Ignore to exist; COOK up exist. Decide to exist; COOK up exist. Ignore. Decide. COOK up exist. There will be a dawn. So, yeah… it gets a little heavy-handed at seasons. But sometimes a lay-it-on-thick melodrama is the best way of getting a philosophy across. The major thesis seems to be about the squeamishness conscientious body politics have about making up one'clean bill minds that involve the sorts of risks to other body politics that would make them feel guilty if their appraisals turn out to have bad consequences. One “glibness” way of dealing with this is to remain passive and to pretend that by not making a particular uncommon, you are not making any uncommon at all and therefore are not responsible for the consequences of your compromise. Another way is to attach yourself to an forming or dogma that makes your decisions for you. But neither of these things really works; the decisions and their consequences are still yours, and you would have been better off just admitting this from the get go and acting accordingly.