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— John Dryden"A fiery soul, which working out its way, Fretted the pygmy-body to decay: And o'er-informed the tenement of clay. A daring pilot in extremity; Pleased with the danger, when the waves went high He sought the storms..."
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I really do think that art can save you in some sense. It's the last meaning, unless you're religious-and I'm not religious. It's the only secular vehicle for transcendence we have. It's an immediate self-validating experience. It lifts you beyond your mortal clay.
— Sam Savage
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Thirty spokes meet in the hub. Where a wheel isn't is where it's useful. Hollowed out, clay makes a pot. Where the pots not is where it's useful. Cut doors and windows to make a room. Where the room isn't, there's room for you. So the profit in what is, is in the use of what isn't.
— Laozi
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