crying
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We are as forlorn as children lost in the woods. When you stand in front of me and look at me, what do you know of the griefs that are in me and what do I know of yours. And if I were to cast myself down before you and weep and tell you, what more would you know about me than you know about Hell when someone tells you it is hot and dreadful? For that reason alone we human beings ought to stand before one another as reverently, as reflectively, as lovingly, as we would before the entrance to Hell.
Franz Kafka
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Ask yourself if you really wish it was true, that there was a celestial dictatorship that watched over you from the moment you were born. Actually the moment you were conceived. All through life, night and day. Knew your thoughts waking and sleeping, could in fact convict you of thought crime, the absolute definition of a dictatorship. That it can convict you for what you think, what you privately want, what you are talking about to yourself. That monitors you like this under permanent surveillance and control and doesn't even let go of you when you are dead because that's when the real fun begins. My question to you is this: who wishes that was true? Who wants to lead the life of a serf in a celestial North Korea?
Christopher Hitchens
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Come down off the cross, we can use the wood.
Tom Waits
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Need to watch this movie again immediately.
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Everything is more complicated than you think. You only see a tenth of what is true. There are a million little strings attached to every choice you make; you can destroy your life every time you choose. But maybe you won't know for twenty years. And you may never ever trace it to its source. And you only get one chance to play it out. Just try and figure out your own divorce. And they say there is no fate, but there is: it's what you create. And even though the world goes on for eons and eons, you are only here for a fraction of a fraction of a second. Most of your time is spent being dead or not yet born. But while alive, you wait in vain, wasting years, for a phone call or a letter or a look from someone or something to make it all right. And it never comes or it seems to but it doesn't really. And so you spend your time in vague regret or vaguer hope that something good will come along. Something to make you feel connected, something to make you feel whole, something to make you feel loved. And the truth is I feel so angry, and the truth is I feel so fucking sad, and the truth is I've felt so fucking hurt for so fucking long and for just as long I've been pretending I'm OK, just to get along, just for, I don't know why, maybe because no one wants to hear about my misery, because they have their own. Well, fuck everybody. Amen.
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Skip James, the definition of blues
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An I will drink muddy water
I'll sleep in a hollow log
I will drink muddy water
Sleep in a hollow log
Befo' I stay up here
Honey, treated like a dog
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The Pillar of Hate.
I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream (1995)
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