"I'll need a job when I quit this bed. "What's that?" ejaculated the ruffian, glancing uneasily towards the window. He had, for the most part, been correct. She softened her tone and scrambled for the right words. Before leaving the place he looked upwards, and could just discern the blue vault and pale stars of Heaven through an iron grating at the top. 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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