’
‘That old fool? Why my brother kept him on I shall never know. ’
‘Damnation!’
‘What the devil ails you?’ demanded his friend, striding forward. They don’t catch on to discursive interests, you see,
because they are more serious, they are concentrated on the central reality of life,
and a little impatient of its—its outer aspects. “I want to ask you a question,” he said. Satisfied in this respect, he flung himself into a
chair, for his iron frame seldom required the indulgence of a bed, and sought an
hour's repose before he began the villanies of another day. “My dad is into this stuff. It seemed to make her sister downcast beyond any
precedent. 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.
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This video was uploaded to m.damaulifm.org on 09-07-2024 20:04:47