167 “True love is forever, isn’t it?” It was something a child would say, a phrase she had seen scratched on bathroom walls and maple trees, but it made her sad. One she entered and met with a sharp rebuff, which she appeared to receive unmoved. The true creative mind is always returning to battle; defeats are only temporary setbacks. He beheld a tall gaunt man, his brown face corrugated like a winter's road, grim, stony. Every moment. If not, I have plenty to think about,” she answered, leaning back in her chair, and watching the smoke from her own cigarette curl upwards.
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