I said, that day at Surbiton, ‘There’s many good things in life, but there’s only one best, and that’s the wild-haired girl who’s pulling away at that oar. Why didn’t I die? Why does God hate me so? Why does He not want me? I didn’t die because I’m weak, because I am cursed! I hate this poisoned world! But most of all. Very well, then. The chance it is the same for both. "So has the butterfly evil thoughts. She laughed as the deluge seemed to grow worse with every step.
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