In history, truth should be held sacred, at whatever cost . . . especially against the narrow and futile patriotism, which, instead of pressing forward in pursuit of truth, takes pride in walking backwards to cover the slightest nakedness of our forefathers.
how sad and bad and mad it was - but then, how it was sweet
The nostalgia of a moment's love can be an illusionary precipice from which we fall from truth; in heartbreak, what we escape to in the past is what tortures us in the present.
Who knows what's for true once a time is past? There's no way to prove how something was that's gone. And if a time is gone, what does it matter? It's all rain into rivers now.
...before you, life was desolate - the past hardly worth remembering - and now, each moment a keepsake I can't throw away ...
I now know how your angercame from skeletonsthat rattled in your heartand you couldn't escape them.
Then came the healing time, hearts started to shine, soul felt so fine, oh what a freeing time it was.
I think the secret to a hoppy life is a selective memory. Remember what you are most grateful for and quickly forget what your not.
He was the same as everyone else: he carried his past inside him. There was no escape from it. No matter how hard you push it down, the truth always comes to the surface.
Maybe, it is easier to forget the past,than to overcome the pain caused by it.Maybe, it is one of some other reasons,why men forget their prehuman ancestor.
We're doomed to repeat the past no matter what. That's what it is to be alive. It's pretty dense kids who haven't figured that out by the time they're ten.... Most kids can't afford to go to Harvard and be misinformed.
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