He killed his senses, he killed his memory, he slipped out of his Self in a thousand different forms. He was animal, carcass, stone, wood, water, and each time he reawakened. The sun or moon shone, he was again Self, swung into the life cycle, felt thirst, conquered thirst, felt new thirst.
Siddhartha, Hermann HesseĀ  (via 5ivegearsinreverse)

(Source: lasya, via 5ivegearsinreverse)

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