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Quote by Mist Crane

“When one's hand can reach across the tides of time, it is their warmth that we truly touch.”

Quote by Mist Crane

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Mist Crane

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“Hallaj points out Divine Compassion as another attribute which makes it possible for the personal "I," ana, to enter into a silent and contemplative dialog with God (Tasin 10:24). The unknowability of God is received as Divine Compassion by man. The human cry of isolation is answered by compassion. But the ascending path leading to Divine Compassion begins with man's unconditional yes to the Divine Will.”

“Ma gli strumenti che create voi in realtà producono bisogni di socialità innaturalmente estremi. Nessuno ha davvero bisogno del numero di contatti che fornite voi. Non porta a nessun miglioramento. Non è nutriente. È come le merendine. Sai come le studiano? Determinano con scientifica precisione di quanto sale e quanti grassi hanno bisogno per farti continuare a mangiare. Tu non hai fame, non senti il bisogno di mangiare, quello che hai davanti non ti stuzzica, ma continui a mangiare queste calorie vuote. Ecco quello che spacciate voi. La stessa cosa. Un numero incalcolabile di calorie vuote, il loro equivalente digitale e sociale.”

“And then it occurred to her, in a brief and blasphemous flash: she didn't want to know how they felt. The flash opened up into something larger, an even more blasphemous notion that her brain contained too much. That the volume of information, of data, of judgements, of measurements, was too much, and there were too many people, and too many desires of too many people, and too many opinions of too many people, and too much pain from too many people, and having it constantly collated ,collected, added and aggregated, and presented to her as if that all made it tidier and more manageable-it was too much.”

“And this tattooing, had been the work of a departed prophet and seer of his island, who, by those hieroglyphic marks, had written out on his body a complete theory of the heavens and the earth, and a mystical treatise on the art of attaining truth; so that Queequeg in his own proper person was a riddle to unfold; a wondrous work in one volume; but whose mysteries not even himself could read, though his own live heart beat against them; and these mysteries were therefore destined in the end to moulder away with the living parchment whereon they were inscribed, and so be unsolved to the last.”