” Anna glanced up. " "And, if you want an additional inducement to do so, I can tell you there's no one —not even his mother—whom he loves so well as you. We can love on a snow cornice, we can love over a pail of whitewash. “But what can one do?” asked Ann Veronica. The sky was dripping a wet, slow rain that had forced the city’s inhabitants into taxicabs and dingy cafeterias, the day wholly ruined for all except the insane schizophrenics and her. ” She leaned forward for another kiss, which he responded to. “There’s no one here except me. It opened and a nun’s head popped out. 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.
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