"‘I suppose,’ he said to himself, ‘I
have lived too intensely, I seem to have had the stars and moon and
everything else for guests, and now they’ve gone my house is
weak.’ ‘Surely,’ he told himself, ‘I have drunk life too hot, and
it has hurt my cup. My soul seems to leak out — I am half here, half
gone away. That’s why I understand the trees and the night so
painfully.’ ‘I suppose,’ he said to himself for the last time, ‘I suppose living too intensely kills you, more or less.’"
- D.H. Lawrence, from The Complete Works
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