"Life was not a valuable gift but death. Life was a fever-dream made 鈥嬧�媢p of joys embittered by sorrows, pleasure poisoned by pain ... but death was sweet, death was gentle, death was kind; the death healed the bruised spirit and broken heart, and gave them rest and forgetfulness, death was the best friend of man, when man could not hold on life, death came to release him. "
Mark Twain... "Cartas de la Tierra"...
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