"that's what hell will be like..."

"that's what hell will be like, small chat to the babbling of Lethe about the good old days when we wished we were dead." 
(samuel beckett, embers)

it's been a long time since i read literature. and for good reason. i lost faith in it. 
i remember starting off with the belief i would learn more and more eventually. every poem, every book a puzzle piece, another step on the road to becoming a better, more knowledgeable person, someday hopefully a wise man.
this hope has vanished. i shall find some more beautiful pages and stories and lines, some constellations and characters that speak to me, but they won't add up and create anything new. they will not change the man i have become or shatter the angles from which i perceive the world. they don't contain the answers.
maybe it is time to leave these ruins behind. indulge in reality, getting my hands dirty and my mind busy and distracted. 
i have lost faith and as every infidel i feel the emptiness creeping at me and the judgement awaiting...

SB

"He lay lapped in a beatitude of indolence that was smoother than oil and softer than a pumpkin, dead to the dark pangs of the sons of Adam, asking nothing of the insubordinate mind. He moved with the shades of the dead and the dead-born and the unborn and the never-to-be-born, in a Limbo purged of desire... If that is what is meant by going back into one's heart, could anything be better, in this world or the next? The mind, dim and hushed like a sick-room, like a chapelle ardente, thronged with shades; the mind at last its own asylum, disinterested, indifferent, its miserable erethisms and discriminations and futile sallies suppressed; the mind suddenly reprieved, ceasing to be an annex of the restless body, the glare of understanding switched off."

(Samuel Beckett, Dream of Fair to Middling Women)