You are your own Heaven and your own Hell, Lucy. Many things were only words, sounds; she could not construct these words and sounds into objects; or, if she did, invariably missed the mark. Oh, it is unbearable. “Please stop fighting me. “Cut her throat!” Sebastian snapped. No, don’t let me call myself that. “I will tell you as much as this,” she continued. You notice that I have recently spent ten francs on a box of the best Russian cigarettes, and that there are roses upon my table.
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