He wished passionately for oblivion, to be at rest, to be dead… Was there any kind of filth with which he had not besmirched himself, any sin and folly which he had not committed, any stain upon his soul for which he alone had not been responsible? Was it then still possibly to live? Was it possible to take in breath again and again, to breathe out, to feel hunger, to eat again, to sleep again… Was this cycle not exhausted and finished for him?
Hermann Hesse, Siddhartha (via hermannhesse)
(Source: re-canvased)
Notes
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