‘But you said she was looking for proof. "I've won, after all. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. You might even tire of me by then, you know. His heart hammered in his chest. "You mistake,—you are mine. She came back with two women, one in each arm, which she threw down like sticks as she alit onto the stone causeway. “You are not content then with stealing from me my name. I mean that the point is that vividness of perception is the essential factor of beauty; but, of course, vividness may be created by a whisper.
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