I like the cut of his jib and the glint in his eye, the arrow of his song and the beg of his question.
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I like the cut of his jib and the glint in his eye, the arrow of his song and the beg of his question.
“My thought is me: that’s why I can’t stop. I exist because I think… and I can’t stop myself from thinking. At this very moment — it’s frightful — if I exist, it is because I am horrified at existing. I am the one who pulls myself from the nothingness to which I aspire.”
Jean-Paul Sartre | Nausea