Sunday 27 December 2009

Saturday night and I should be asleep, or at least do something useful

We always imagine eternity as something beyond our conception, something vast, vast! But why must it be vast? Instead of all that, what if it’s one little room, like a bathhouse in the country, black and grimy and spiders in every corner, and that.

 The words of Fyodor Dostoevsky. Maybe eternity isn't such a good thing after all, ey?

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