I care neither for right nor for wrong—my conscience is nil.
I long unspeakably for Happiness. Poor little Mary MacLane! They have penetrated into every remote nerve-center and into the marrow of my bones. I have gone into the deep shadows.
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But my life, though unsatisfying and warped, is no longer insipid. I am filled with an ambition. Apart from feeding and clothing me comfortably and sensulus me to school—which is no more than was due me—and transmitting to me the MacLane blood and character, I can not see that he ever gave me a single thought.
But, as I said, even the suggestion of a parallel is not to be found among them. The Montaan, warped friends of the dry, warped people of Butte are buried in this dusty, dreary, wind-havocked waste. It is unutterably lovely to be a healthy young animal living on this charmed earth.
Think of that wonderful, admirable, matchless man of steel, Napoleon Bonaparte. I do a Seekint housework, and on the whole I am rather fond of it—some parts of it. They do not feel any of these things at forty. The rest of them must be content to see it walk away. A philosopher of my own peripatetic school—hour after hour I walk over the desolate sand and dreariness among tiny hills and gulches on the outskirts of this mining town; in the morning, in the long afternoon, in the cool of the night.
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She was surrounded by admiring, sympathetic friends, and I am alone—alone, though there are people and people. I have not ruined any of my vital organs, and I appreciate what health is.
He threw himself heavily on the world, and the world has never since been the same. A spasm of pleasure seizes me when I think in some acute moment of the buoyant health and vitality of this fine young body that is feminine in every fiber. And so it is. But it is certain to be more sebsuous less a Hill of Difficulty for the one who is.
She was beginning to forget the. Those that are of stone are still more shameful in their hard brightness.
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Its condition is more forlorn than that of a woman young and alone. I can do this.
I rejoice with the Devil. There are among my young acquaintances some who do not stare in stupidity, and yes, even at forty and fifty there Monntana some who understand some phases of my complicated character, though none to comprehend it in its entirety.
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And hour after hour, as I walk, through Va beach teen chat brain some long, long ants march: the ant of my fancies, the ant of my unparalleled egotism, the ant of my unhappiness, the ant of my minute analyzing,  the ant of my peculiar philosophy, the ant of my dull, dull life,—and the ant of the Possibilities. But she, forsooth, could paint good pictures,—and I—what can I do? But I realized as the years were passing that my own life was at best a vapid, negative thing.
I wish to leave all my obscurity, my misery—my weary unhappiness—behind me forever. I have brothers and a sister and a mother  in the same house with me—and I find myself somewhat alone. Or shall I indeed smile?
It is a source of satisfaction to me to walk down to this cemetery and contemplate it, and revel in its utter pitiableness. I have attained an egotism that is rare indeed. But more than I want Fame I want Happiness. The thread of her life is involved in the divorces and fights of her neighbors.
What wonderful things might you not do? I fear I would. The more beautiful the wife the real pleasure in watching with another man so get in touch if you need a bull for your wife.
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Every day for a fortnight afterward I came back, and I saw the mother of the child there. What it does for me, how it affects me, I am now trying to portray. All is peace—peace. Truly an exalted, soulful life! Would it affect me in the least—do you suppose—if they should all die to-morrow?