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Olive Schreiner
“Why hate, and struggle, and fight? Let is be as it would.”
Olive Schreiner, The Story of an African Farm

Friedrich Nietzsche
“There is something the child sees that he does not see; something the child hears that he does not hear; and this something is the most important thing of all. Because he does not understand it, his understanding is more childish than the child's and more simple than simplicity itself; in spite of the many clever wrinkles on his parchment face, and the masterly play of his fingers in unravelling the knots.”
Friedrich Nietzsche, On the Advantage and Disadvantage of History for Life

Paul Kalanithi
“I began to realize that coming in such close contact with my own mortality had changed both nothing and everything. Before my cancer was diagnosed, I knew that someday I would die, but I didn’t know when. After the diagnosis, I knew that someday I would die, but I didn’t know when. But now I knew it acutely. The problem wasn’t really a scientific one. The fact of death is unsettling. Yet there is no other way to live.”
Paul Kalanithi, When Breath Becomes Air

Hermann Hesse
“Seine Fremdheit, Einsamkeit und Gefährung weckte nicht nur etwas wie Mitleid in mir, sie war mir unterhalb oder oberhalb des Rationalen verständlich, weil sie als Ahnung und Möglichkeit auch in mir vorhanden war. Ich war freilich ein ganz anderes Temperament als er, wechselnder, beweglicher, munterer, auch zu Geselligkeit und Spiel geneigter, aber Einsamkeit und sichfremdwissen unter den anderen waren auch mir wohlbekannt. Jenes Stehen am Rande der Welt, an jener Grenze des Lebens, jene Verlorenheit und jenes Starren ins Nichts oder Jenseits, die zu [seinem] Wesen zu gehören und seine dauernde Haltung zu sein schienen, sie hatten für Stunden oder Augenblicke auch mir das Leben fragwürdig gemacht und den Spaß daran verdorben.”
Hermann Hesse

Olive Schreiner
“why am I so alone, so hard, so cold? I am so weary of myself! It is eating my soul to its core,--self, self, self! I cannot bear this life! I cannot breathe, I cannot live! Will nothing free me from myself?' She pressed her cheek agains the wooden post. 'I want to love! I want something great and pure to lift me to itself! Dear old man, I cannot bear it any more! I am so cold, so hard, so hard; will no one help me!”
Olive Schreiner, The Story of an African Farm

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