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A labyrinth of ideas,
A diary of curiosities

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وصلت مرحلة أسوي كولكشن ميمز
Whose woods these are I think I know.   
His house is in the village though;   
He will not see me stopping here   
To watch his woods fill up with snow.   

My little horse must think it queer   
To stop without a farmhouse near   
Between the woods and frozen lake   
The darkest evening of the year.   

He gives his harness bells a shake   
To ask if there is some mistake.   
The only other sound’s the sweep   
Of easy wind and downy flake.   

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,   
And miles to go before I sleep,   
And miles to go before I sleep.

- Robert Frost
Forwarded from The Shire (Venom)
Franz Liszt
Forwarded from CHAOS (Tetania)
But I have never believed the people when they talked about great men – and I held to my belief that [he] was an inverse cripple, who had too little of everything and too much of one thing.
Truly, my friends, I walk among men as among the fragments and limbs of men!

The terrible thing to my eye is to find men shattered in pieces and scattered as if over a battle-field of slaughter.
And when my eye flees from the present to the past, it always discovers the same thing: fragments and limbs and dreadful chances – but no men!

- Thus Spoke Zarathustra
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But I have never believed the people when they talked about great men – and I held to my belief that [he] was an inverse cripple, who had too little of everything and too much of one thing. Truly, my friends, I walk among men as among the fragments and limbs…
لكنّني لم أُصَدِّق الناسَ أبدًا عندما تحدّثوا عن الرجال العظماء – وتمسّكتُ بإيماني بأنّ [هذا الرجلَ العظيم] كانَ ذا عاهةٍ معكوسة، عِندَه القليلُ من كلّ شي والكثيرُ من شيءٍ واحد.
إنّني أَصدُقُكم القول، يا رِفاقي، إذ أرى نفسي أمشي بين الرجال كأنّني بينَ أشلاءِ وأطرافٍ متناثرة.

يؤلمُني أنْ أرى رجالًا مُبَعثَرين لأشلاءٍ ومتناثرين كأنّها ساحةُ معركةٍ ومجزرةٌ دامية.
وعندما مِن الحاضرِ فَرّت عيني إلى الماضي، رأت المشهدَ ذاتَه: شظايا وأطرافًا وصُدَفًا مروّعة – ولكن لا رجال!