What was and what may be lie, like children whose faces we cannot see, in the arms of silence. All we have is here, now.
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Without language, they have no lies. Thus they have no future.
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When I was young, I had to choose between the life of being and the life of doing. And I leapt at the latter like a trout to a fly. But each deed you ...
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A man does not make his destiny: he accepts it or denies it.
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The only thing that makes life possible is permanent, intolerable uncertainty: not knowing what comes next.
