The French writer Victor Hugo wrote of melancholy which is “the joy of feeling sad”. It could be defined as the desire, at the bottom of the soul, for something that one has never had, but which one agonizingly misses.
The French writer Victor Hugo wrote of melancholy which is “the joy of feeling sad”. It could be defined as the desire, at the bottom of the soul, for something that one has never had, but which one agonizingly misses.
“She said, ‘I’m so afraid.’ And I said, ‘why?,’ and she said, ‘Because I’m so profoundly happy, Dr. Rasul. Happiness like this is frightening.’ I asked her why and she said, ‘They only let you be this happy if they’re preparing to take something from you.”[1]
There was an Autumn in which I didn’t feel very well, I didn’t have time to recover from one flu that I was having another.
It happens to everyone sooner or later in life, it’s nothing to worry about. It becomes, however, if it is the Autumn of the last year of high school, in which all the professors rage and terrify you…
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