But if there is one thing that angers me even more, are people with no imagination. Those which TS Eliot called "the hollow men." Insensitive people that cover this lack of imagination, this empty them with a pile of sawdust, and without even any regard for whether they go around the world groped to impose at all costs that their stupidity to the other, lining up empty words and meaningless. Haruki Murakami "Kafka on the Shore"
Einaudi, 2008
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