"As long as you have not grasped that you have to die to grow, you are a troubled guest on the dark earth"."

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The thoughts that occur to me while I’m running are like clouds in the sky. Clouds of all different sizes. They come and they go, while the sky remains the same sky always. The clouds are mere guests in the sky that pass away and vanish, leaving behind the sky.

— Haruki Murakami