History is an endless repetition of the wrong way of living.
From Lawrence Durrell
A city becomes a world when one loves one of its inhabitants.
I had become, with the approach of night, once more aware of loneliness and time - those two companions without whom no journey can yield us anything.
Guilt always hurries towards its complement, punishment; only there does its satisfaction lie.
Perhaps our only sickness is to desire a truth which we cannot bear rather than to rest content with the fictions we manufacture out of each other.
4 perspectives
3 perspectives
2 perspectives
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