imagination is the goad that forces human beings into restless exertion after their primary needs have been satisfied. most of us have known very few moments when we could have said:
if it were now to die,
'twere now to be most happy, for i fear
my soul hath her content so absolute
that not another comfort like to this
succeeds in unknown fate.
and in our rare moments of perfect happiness, it is natural, like Othello, to wish for death, since we know that contentment cannot last.
-Bertrand Russell
Thursday, March 12
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