#84 · Fri Jul 16, 02:03 AM

And yet, and yet….Denying temporal succession, denying the self, denying the astronomical universe, are apparent desperations and secret consolations. Our destiny is not frightful by being unreal; it is frightful because it is irreversible and iron-clad. Time is the substance I am made of. Time is a river which sweeps me along, but I am the river; it is a tiger which destroys me, but I am the tiger; it is a fire which consumes me, but I am the fire. The world, unfortunately, is real; I, unfortunately, am Borges.—Jorge Luis Borges, Essay: “A New Refutation of Time,” 1946

-- David Pickett --

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