Norah siterer The Goldfinch av Donna Tartt (side 777)
11:14, 11. juli 2015 Ingen har det som favoritt.
People had been raging and weeping and destroying things for centuries and wailing about their puny individual lives, when - what was the point? All this useless sorrow? Consider the lilies of the field. Why did anyone ever worry about anything? Weren't we, as sentient beings, put upon the earth to be happy, in the brief time allotted to us?
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