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Version vom 15. Dezember 2023, 10:42 Uhr

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I see the stomach of the truck scraping towards me across the hood of the automotive. Suddenly I notice that the truck on our right is drifting into our lane. To claim the present of the Son is to claim a proper and truthful normal. What if you ask to be judged on the deserves of the Son of God? "Do you recognize goodness better than God? "Do you know justice better than God, you can train him what could be extra just? You can ask God to guage you by whatever normal. God will answer your prayers." Somehow I knew, as I never earlier than had, I used to be proper. There may be something about this answer that offends me. There is no dance. There is a low pop, and glass. It's a woman’s voice, however as low as a tremor of the earth. He touched my hand, and in a breath we were racing up from the earth, above the clouds, far above the clouds, the earth was a curve cloaked in dark blue, then an orb beneath our ft, and the moon another orb. In 100 million years, the final life on earth will boil away underneath a massing solar.



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Then he turned towards me, and took my other hand as effectively. Tamarins swing above me, then mate feverishly on the branches. He didn’t look at me. He hesitated a moment, and didn’t look at me when he answered. "Can I look for a second? There was the thinnest of whispers, the barest trace of movement, as we passed by way of a trillion miles in a moment. "There isn't any ‘me.’ There was a chemical reaction, effervescing in a vapor of momentary consciousness. VAPOR OF VAPOR, ALL IS VAPOR. Below my toes, the miniature sculpted caverns of ten thousand colonies of ants shiver with industry. "In ten thousand years the last human will die. "No one will remember," she says, with a lion’s groan and a whale’s sorrowing tune. The generations move, one from one other, surviving solely, forgetful of the useless useless. One was being eaten away by a satisfaction of black holes, like ravenous lions.



I’m unsure whether or not I bit my lip, however I felt like doing so. I nearly let go of his hand again-he will need to have felt me lighten my grasp-but thought the better of it. And he answered, "How could I have sent anybody else to greet my daughter? "Will I have to tell? Finally I requested, "Will I see them again? When we had been ready to go, my ghost, or angel, requested, "Where to now? The little man mentioned goodbye, and turned to go, and waved. At this the man laughed, not cruelly or cynically, however with mirth and something like fondness. "Then it is healthier to meet oblivion head on." I sigh, and really feel one thing like peace, or resignation. Somehow we came to the end of the universe, although I don’t suppose that’s really potential in the atypical method of things. I don’t need to dwell on this half.