Meaning and reality were not hidden somewhere behind things, they were in them, in all of them.
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- and all were not worth a passing glance, everything lied, stank of lies; they were all illusions of sense, happiness and beauty. All were doomed to decay. The world tasted bitter. Life was pain.
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Govinda knew that he would not become an ordinary Brahmin, a lazy superficial official, an avaricious dealer in magic sayings, a conceited worthless orator, a wicked sly priest, or just a good stupid sheep amongst a large herd.
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