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We die containing a richness of lovers and tribes, tastes we have swallowed, bodies we have plunged into and swum up as if rivers of wisdom, characters we have climbed into as if trees, fears we have hidden in as if caves.
The future belongs to those who can harness energy wisely.
The past is never dead. It's not even past.
Freedom is a heavy load, a great and strange burden for the spirit to undertake.
Human beings are not born once and for all on the day their mothers give birth to them, but life obliges them over and over again to give birth to themselves.