Quotes
I was not meant to live anywhere except in Paradise.Such, simply, was my genetic inadaptation.Here on earth every prick of a rose-thorn changed into a wound. When the sun hid behind a cloud, I grieved.I pretended to work like others from morning to evening, but I was absent, dedicated to invisible countries.
Czeslaw Milosz
The survivors ran through the fields, escaping. From themselves, knowing they wouldn't return. For a hundred years. Before them were spread. Those quicksands where a tree changes into nothing, Into an anti-tree, where no borderline. Separates a shape from a shape, and where, Amid thunder, the golden house of is. Collapses, and the word becoming ascends.
Czeslaw Milosz
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