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another question.

March 15, 2010

Sometimes I fear that I shall never be clever enough to do anything but stagnate in impotent desire for wit and charm and intellectuality, and never be brave enough to dwell anywhere else but the kitchen cupboard of these cautious explorations of other people’s lives.

If I had a time machine, I would take by force all the empty hours I’ve thrown away in the name of youthful profligacy.

What the fuck does it mean, “to do something with one’s life” ?

Posted by alicelane at 1:48 pm | permalink

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