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Love to throw yourself on the earth and kiss it. Kiss the earth and love it with an unceasing, consuming love. Love all men, love everything. Seek that rapture and ecstasy. Water the earth with the tears of your joy and love those tears.
“What is hell?” I maintain that it is the suffering of being unable to love.
Fyodor Dostoevsky
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I could not forget the feeling, even not just when to feel it, but when to read the passage.
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