No matter how often she came across this phase in love stories, there was never anything explanatory: as if all human beings perfectly understood. You will torture yourself and torture her all through life; but in the end she will pour the wine of her faith into a sound chalice. Her body was perpetually tanned, despite the approach of winter. I’m rather scornful. Sometimes the moon was totally eclipsed; at others, it shed a wan and ghastly glimmer over the masses rolling in the firmament. "And now, to your own concerns.
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