"Life must be filled up, and the man who is not capable of intellectual pleasures must content himself with such as his senses can afford."

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Sorrow has the fortunate peculiarity that it preys upon itself. It dies of starvation. Since it is essentially an interruption of habits, it can be replaced by new habits. Constituting, as it does, a void, it is soon filled up by a real horror vacuum.

— August Strindberg