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aloeverahe
Inhumane? Or Inhuman?

Adeline
Play with a frog? But... what if I can't find him?

Joker-Davian Williams
Com,mas everyw,h,ere commas, everywhere, commas don't, belong everywhere,

Jarod Kintz
Imma do both just in case.

a casual observer
Exactly! The edit function is there for a reason, so that we can improve other …

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sentient's คำคม

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unkown - On the Apollo program
I don't think the point of our existence is to prolong our own existence but to create amazing things, things that will be remembered for as long as human existence. And the accomplishments of the Apollo program are profoundly amazing.

David Deida
Everything you do right now ripples outward and affects everyone. Your posture can shine your heart or transmit anxiety. Your breath can radiate love or muddy the room in depression. Your glance can awaken joy. Your words can inspire freedom. Your every act can open hearts and minds.

Brandon Sanderson - Mistborn
How did one rationalize belief with no proof? How could they honestly expect him to have faith in something that taught of miracles and wonders in the far past, but carefully gave excuses for why such things didn't occur in the present day?

Leonard Nimoy - On Acting
You know, for a long time, I have been of the opinion that artists don't necessarily know what they're doing. You don't necessarily know what kind of universal concept you're tapping into.

H.G. Wells - The War of the Worlds
The coming storm of fear blew through the streets. It was the dawn of the great panic. London, which had gone to bed on Sunday night oblivious and inert, was awakened, in the small hours of Monday morning, to a vivid sense of danger.

Blake Ross - On Aphantasia
I cannot flash to beaches I've visited. I have no visual, audio, emotional, or otherwise sensory experience. I have no capacity to create any kind of mental image of a beach, whether I close my eyes or open them, whether I'm reading the word in a book or concentrating on the idea for hours at a time - or whether I'm standing on the beach itself.

Roald Dahl - The Witches
I gazed up at my grandmother, who sat there like some ancient queen on her throne. Her eyes were misty-grey and they seemed to be looking at something many miles away. The cigar was the only real thing about her at that moment, and the smoke it made billowed round her head in blue clouds.