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My dear, find what you love and let it kill you. Let it drain from you your all. Let it cling onto your back and weigh you down into eventual nothingness. Let it kill you, and let it devour your remains.
For all things will kill you, both slowly and fastly, but it’s much better to be killed by a lover.
Henry Charles Bukowski
by Aldous Huxley (1894-1963)
It seems today. ...
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Nosferatu by F. W. Murnau
NOT I - Samel Beckett