When I have traversed the streets a houseless wanderer, driven with curses from every door where I have solicited alms, and with blows from every gateway where I have sought shelter,—when I have crept into some deserted building, and stretched my wearied limbs upon a bulk, in the vain hope of repose,—or, worse than all, when, frenzied with want, I have yielded to horrible temptation, and earned a meal in the only way I could earn one,—when I have felt, at times like these, my heart sink within me, I have drank of this drink, and have at once forgotten my cares, my poverty, my guilt. Perhaps, as you say, I do not really care—but I cannot do it. ” “Yes,” said his prospective fellow-sailor, “that’s very pretty. You have the gift of words, but you haven't started to create yet. " "If you must go to prison, I will go with you," cried Mrs.
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