Character: Dorothy Hare

Male weasels crawling on the body of a heavy male hands, male fleshy lips close to her own... Terrible, disgusting! Even the mental image made frantically to shrink. Here lay the very secret of her incurable injury. "If only they did not stick!" thought Dorothy, already going a bit slower. Often there arose the cry "if they did not stick!". However, it would be a mistake to assume that she never liked men. On the contrary, she liked him a lot more women. And Warburton was attracted to her purely male freestyle carelessness and intellectual breadth of personality, which so rarely Shine ladies. But why men don't not stick? Why certainly it is necessary to climb with kisses and torture? In them then there is something sinister, ugly, like a big furry animal clinging to you, too gently suddenly seizes and aiming to grab. There are still a predatory male caresses a harbinger of other terrible, monstrous things ("all this" by definition Dorothy), what she thought, he could not tolerate.

And although it is unlikely that Dorothy, having lost the teacher's place again will surely find themselves in hell (or at least, now, cousin or his agents entirely without the aid will not leave), but after catching up on Mrs creevy area homeless suddenly much closer. "Dressing" made in depth to understand the greatest new commandment, the eleventh, erased all the previous don't lose their job!

And if given the faith, as firmly as firmly you stand. You'll get discouraged if there's a clear goal, which can serve? All of life is illuminated by its light. No mental fatigue, confusion, doubt, feelings of futility, no lurking, lying in wait butlerovskie spleen. Every step need, your every moment is woven into the lively pattern is a wonderful celebration of the spirit.

Okay after all? No replacement no faith; no good pagan worship of the elements or primitive things pantheists, nor the religion of "progress" with the enlightenment shining utopias and concrete ant hills. All or nothing. Or earthly life, the prologue to something Great and Reasonable, or a nightmare dark of nothingness.

You come out of the womb, live seventy years and then die, rot. And in every particle of life, not redeemed, no ultimate goal, the presence of sadness and desolation that cannot be expressed, but I feel physically aching heart. Life, if it really ends with the grave, terrible and monstrous. It is not necessary here to direct the fog. Imagine the reality of life, imagine this reality in detail, and then tell yourself that there is no meaning, no purpose, no destination other than the grave. After all, only fools, well, some unique lucky people will be able directly, fearlessly take a look at this, isn't it?

In the world evil enough and want more to seek out.