my thinking, the cancer of never letting go, is ignorance bliss, I don't know, but it's so painful to think, and tell me, what did thinking ever do for me, to what great place did thinking ever bring me? I think and think and think, I've thought myself out of happiness one million times, but never once into it.

I've chosen to live - and to live the best I know how.

It&#39;s as simple as something that nobody knows.

My yesterdays walk with me. They keep step, they are gray faces that peer over my shoulder.

Written By William Golding

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