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| Whatever you wake or choose to stir is changed. | |
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| There is no truth capable of healing your wounds. The primroses you picked all withered and died. There is no god worthy of my love. | |
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| Better I pour my heart into a wet card board box and set the whole fucking lot on fire! | |
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| You murdered everyone. Reason is a bitch. | |
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| There’s nothing wrong with reason! | |
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