My life has been mainly concerned with grieving for the suffering of others, and mourning the beauty of things. Beauty is a concept that is intensely sad. The tragedy is that where it seems lacking, it is present and yet unknown - and where it is seen it fades and crumbles until it is no longer
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Have some pipeweed or some shit, alright?
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Where is purity in all this mass of decay? It is no more enduring than beauty.
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Nothing endures. Except the same process.
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Maybe one day the process will change...or perhaps it already has...
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Let's hope that it does.
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