There are ships sailing to many ports, but not a single one goes where life is not painful.
Life is what we make of it. Travel is the traveler. What we see isn't what we see but what we are.
I've never done anything but dream. This, and this alone, has been the meaning of my life. My only real concern has been my inner life.
Look, there's no metaphysics on earth but chocolates.
What can I expect from myself? My sensation in all their horrible acuity, and a profound awareness of feeling. A sharp mind that only destroys me, and an unusual capacity for dreaming to keep me entertained. A dead will and a reflection that cradles it, like a living child. From, The Book of Disquiet
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