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I’ll put it to you simply: love is the enemy. That’s my conclusion. We should all live in our little monk cells and never venture out
Paul Russell
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Waiting, he thought, was the most miserable condition a man could find himself in. His whole life, he had been waiting for one thing or another
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Did one learn or was one shaped?
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Still, the illusion of love had, in its time, led to stranger depravities
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You’re the enemy. You’re the one who’s going to defeat yourself
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