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The sea seems to yell at me, GO TO YOUR DESIRE AND DON’T HANG AROUND HERE; for after all, the sea must be like God. God isn’t asking us to mope and suffer and sit by the sea in the cold of midnight for the sake of writing down useless sounds. He gave us the tools of self-reliance after all to make it straight through bad life mortality to paradise maybe. I hope. ..Jack Kerouac, Big Sur
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