Luis C.

Denying temporal succession, denying the Self, denying the astronomical universe, are apparent despair and secret consolation. Our fate is not frightening because it is unreal; it's scary because it's irreversible and fierce. Time is the stuff I'm made of. Time is a river that sweeps me away, but I am the river; it is a tiger that devours me, but I am the tiger; it is a fire that consumes me, but I am the fire. The world, unfortunately, is real;