He looks at houses, chateaus, forests, and thinks about the countless generations who used to see those things and who are gone now; and he understands that everything he is seeing is oblivion; pure oblivion, the oblivion whose absolute state will soon be achieved, the moment he himself is gone. And again I think about the obvious idea {that astoundingly obvious idea} that everything that exists {nation, thought, music} can also not exist.
( Milan Kundera )
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