Epicurus is one of the first social contract theorists, holding that justice is an agreement neither to harm nor be harmed. He also says that living justly is necessary and sufficient for living pleasantly, which is the Epicurean goal. Some say that there are two accounts of justice in Epicurus -- one as a personal virtue, the other as a virtue of institutions. I argue that the personal virtue derives from compliance with just social institutions, and so we need to (...) attribute only one account of justice to Epicurus. I show how this interpretation makes sense of claims about justice by Epicurus and his followers, including Hermarchus, Lucretius, and Diogenes of Oinoanda. (shrink)

This work aims to raise one of the deepest and most puzzling questions we can put to ourselves: What is love? Drawing on writers and thinkers as diverse as Plato, Tolstoy, Freud and Stendhal, John Armstrong explores how our perception of love is formed by culture and history. The book joins the search for a more mature conception of love without self-deception and asks whether this is even achievable.

A graceful and lucid study of the power of beauty and the deep significance it has in our lives In defining beauty and our response to it, we are often caught between the concrete and the sublime. We wish to categorize beauty, to clearly label its parts, and yet we wish also to celebrate its mysterious-and at times mythical-power. Armstrong's response is a discursive and graceful journey through various and complementary interpretations, leading us from Hogarth's belief that the essence of (...) beauty lies in shapely curves, to Kant's discourses on the meaning of pleasure. (shrink)

In Alice Walker’s vignette “The Flowers,” a young black girl’s walk in the woods is interrupted when she treads “smack” into the skull of a lynched man. As her name predicates, Myop’s age and innocence obstruct her from seeing deeply into the full implications of the scene, while the more worldly reader is jarred and confronted with a whole history of racial violence and slavery. The skeleton, its teeth cracked and broken, is a temporal irruption, a Gothic “smack” that shatters (...) the transience of the pastoral scene with the intrusion of a deeper past from which dead matter/material de-composes the story’s present with the violent matter/issue of racism. Walker’s story is representative of an important trope in fiction, where the pastoral dead speak through the details of their remains, and the temporal fabric of text is disrupted by the very substance of death. Against the backdrops of Terry Gifford’s post-pastoral and Fred Botting’s Gothic understanding of the literary corpse as “negative[ly] sublime,” this essay explores the fictional dead as matter unfettered by genre, consistently signifying beyond their own inanimate silences, revealing suppressed and unpalatable themes of racial and sexual violence, child abuse and cannibalistic consumerism. Along with Walker’s story, this study considers these ideas through new readings of Stephen King’s novella The Body, Raymond Carver’s story “So Much Water So Close to Home,” and The Road by Cormac McCarthy. While these writers may form an unlikely grouping in terms of style, each uses pastoral remains as significant material, deploying the dead as Gothic entities that force the reader to confront America’s darkest social and historical matters. (shrink)

Friedrich Nietzsche was a German philosopher, poet and cultural critic. He is best known for his controversial idea of 'life affirmation' that challenged traditional morality and all doctrines. Born in 1844 outside Leipzig, Germany, his teachings inspired people in all walks of life, from dancers and poets to psychologists and social revolutionaries. Here you will find insights from his greatest works. The School of Life takes a great thinker and highlights those ideas most relevant to ordinary, everyday dilemmas. These books (...) emphasize ways in which wise voices from the past have urgently important and inspiring things to tell us. (shrink)

How many of us have stopped before a famous painting or building only to realise, with quiet disappointment, that we can't quite see what the fuss is about? What do we have to do - beyond just staring - to get the most out of art? How do we come to develop an attachment to individual works and find them deeply fascinating? How do they come to matter to us?