Over here men drink because they are lonely; and when they drink too hard and too long, they wind up on the beach. And if sometimes I grow heady—and it's in the blood— remind me of this day when you took me out of hell—a thief. “Annabel,” she said, “you are my sister, or I would bid you take the flowers if you care for them, and leave the room. Remember, in your story—look at it, scattered everywhere!—that line? We arrive at true happiness only through labyrinths of misery.
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