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No matter how far you march, O best beloved mooncalf, the past will always drag around your ankle, a snapped shackle time cannot pry loose.
Without stories there is no past, no future, no We. There is Death. There is Nothing, a night without moon or stars.
If you do not know how to die, never trouble yourself; nature will in a moment fully and sufficiently instruct you; she will exactly do that business for you; take no care for it. —Michel de Montaigne
