Hermann Hesse | home
One never reaches home, but wherever friendly paths intersect the whole world looks like home for a time.
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One never reaches home, but wherever friendly paths intersect the whole world looks like home for a time.
Hermann Hesse | home Read More »
Without words, without writing and without books there would be no history, there could be no concept of humanity.
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To be able to throw one’s self away for the sake of a moment, to be able to sacrifice years for a woman’s smile – that is happiness.
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I have always believed, and I still believe, that whatever good or bad fortune may come our way we can always give it meaning and transform it into something of value.
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The call of death is a call of love. Death can be sweet if we answer it in the affirmative, if we accept it as one of the great eternal forms of life and transformation.
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