quarta-feira, 4 de maio de 2011

n67. Misery

"It’s been a long time since I talked about certain things. So I don’t know any more—or I’m not sure. When I look at my life and its secret colors, I feel like bursting into tears. Like that sky. It’s rain and sun both, noon and midnight. I think of the lips I’ve kissed, and the wretched child I was, and of the madness of life and the ambition that sometimes carries me away. I’m all those things at once. I’m sure there are times when you wouldn’t even recognize me. Extreme in misery, excessive in happiness."
Albert Camus

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