. 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. The recollection of all her unhappiness, the loveless years, the unending loneliness, the injustice of it, rolled up to her lips in verbal lava. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property (trademark/copyright) agreement. \" Larry got up from his chair and trudged to the refrigerator, pouring himself a glass of milk from the never-ending supply of two percent.
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