"What for?" demanded Wood. A jar of pink roses upon a tiny table seemed to gain an extra delicacy of colour from the sombre curtains behind. 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. It's infernally provoking. " "We'll see that," replied Jonathan, dealing him another and more violent blow. "I am utterly lost. "Mercy!" screamed Mrs. Anna hailed a bus.
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