Nainstalovat Steam
přihlásit se
|
jazyk
简体中文 (Zjednodušená čínština)
繁體中文 (Tradiční čínština)
日本語 (Japonština)
한국어 (Korejština)
ไทย (Thajština)
български (Bulharština)
Dansk (Dánština)
Deutsch (Němčina)
English (Angličtina)
Español-España (Evropská španělština)
Español-Latinoamérica (Latin. španělština)
Ελληνικά (Řečtina)
Français (Francouzština)
Italiano (Italština)
Bahasa Indonesia (Indonéština)
Magyar (Maďarština)
Nederlands (Nizozemština)
Norsk (Norština)
Polski (Polština)
Português (Evropská portugalština)
Português-Brasil (Brazilská portugalština)
Română (Rumunština)
Русский (Ruština)
Suomi (Finština)
Svenska (Švédština)
Türkçe (Turečtina)
Tiếng Việt (Vietnamština)
Українська (Ukrajinština)
Nahlásit problém s překladem
Argentina 
⛳🥞💛🚘🌋🎍💗🐳🐊🎁🌳🏀🐝💎💚
An Animal that knows who it is, one that has a sense of his own identity, is
a discontented creature, doomed to create new problems for himself for the
duration of his stay on this planet. Since neither the mouse nor the chimp
knows what is, he is spared all the vexing problems that follow this
discovery. But as soon as the human animal who asked himself this question
emerged, he plunged himself and his descendants into an eternity of doubt
and brooding, speculation and truth-seeking that has goaded him through the
centures as reelentlessly as hunger or sexual
longing. The chimp that does
not know that he exists is not driven to discover his origins and is spared
the tragic necessity of contemplating his own end. And even if the animal
experimenters succeed in teaching a chimp to count one hundred bananas or
to play chess, the chimp will develo