He had a blue overstuffed couch, his own television, even a computer with its own desk. Henceforth, I utterly throw off the yoke you have laid upon me. 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. “In any case you will never receive any different sort of answer from me. I’ll have to think of something else.
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