When I’m dead will you remember all the things I’ve tried to say? This cancer inside of me destroying my life, when I rot in the ground will you care? The sands of time are pointless in a useless ugly world Nothing brings peace of mind, I leave nothing behind if my words are left […]
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Posted 13 grudnia 2017
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„I was taunted and sneered at so that I would not go home to my meals, and used to stay in the streets with a hungry belly rather than return for anything to eat, what few half-meals I did have, I was taunted with the remark—’That’s more than you have earned.’” „He often said to […]
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Posted 01 marca 2017
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On mute epitaph if only you could sing What songs would you weave Of all that could have been
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Posted 09 grudnia 2016
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” (…) Why anything? Because the moment simply is. Have you ever seen bugs trapped in amber?” „Yes.” (…) „Well, here we are, Mr. Pilgrim, trapped in the amber of this moment. There is no why.” —- On the eight day, the forty-year-old hobo said to Billy, „This ain’t bad. I can be comfortable anywhere.” […]
O Boże, dałeś człowiekowi umiłowanie wolności i zabijasz je niewolniczym przywiązaniem do najpodlejszego choćby życia.
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Posted 17 listopada 2015
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…have heard the eagle scream All the ones who died for liberty have died but for a dream Oh then rise, rise, rise, dark horse on the wind For in no nation on the earth more broken dreams you’ll find
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Posted 29 września 2015
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It was impossible to know on that cloudless Arizona morning in January 2013 which fragments of Kim’s identity might survive, if any. Would she remember their first, fumbling kiss in his dorm room five years earlier? Their private jokes and dumb arguments? The seizure, the surgery, the fancy neuroscience fellowship she had to turn down? […]
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Posted 28 września 2015
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There is a paradoxical relationship to the idea of personal identity. On the one hand, we are overburdened with the weight of individual consciousness which makes us constantly worry about the imminence of death and the annihilation of the self. On the other, there is the horror of the self not being real, of our […]
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Posted 24 lipca 2015
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Barbarians that they were — Forgotten legacies of dust People remembered in nothing But fragments of language Verses of song And shards of military rust
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Posted 18 maja 2015
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Supposing you and I, escaping this battle, would be able to live on forever, ageless, immortal, so neither would I myself go on fighting in the foremost, nor would I urge you into the fighting where men win glory. But now, seeing that the spirits of death stand close about us in their thousands, no […]
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Posted 10 kwietnia 2015
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