Of the Quality Of the Beings 1 That dog never cried to the edges of fnebre calm of its well-liked owner? However, a simple movement of this so that the acute almost continuous sound of I soon cry incontido if transmute in a now less extensive sharp, followed or not of many licked is enough. The dog seemed me happy. Its rabinho in frantic movement; its legs as that reanimating the body whose soul more seems already not to have the capacity to wake up. Sleeping deep in the ininteligvel abyss the one that we call death. Perhaps the movement effect is not of the will, before, of pure perhaps of a wind the hour more vigorous than of custom; perhaps reason who knows of that one still stranger force the one that if stipulated to call gravity? The dog retook yours cries. Again the peace is disturbed. Now already more for the dullness of a thought action or it does not dispatch by post for bad end, before: for the undesirable absence of a reaction any. In the men it has, however, a theory of the death who, I assume, allows the sadness it, the compuno, the simple ones I cry e, not very uncommon, pendor incontido to the tacit desire never to have that to exist.
Such theory is branched off: 1) What it is the death? 2) How to have access it? In reason of the first that one that lives it asks for the life of that it died. Not conformed, it insists on having some form of retrocession. Because the death also appraised allows to think the life it.
