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    I am now making a good effort to move silently to the edge of Life. Even looking around myself, there is still a dark crater of clamorous lightlessness outside! I ought to become silent as a pill, like tears in tired and empty eye-sockets, and disappear into the infinite Nothingness, to lose myself like a soundless, silent primeval vacuum in a breathless breathlessness! 

    It is time to grow up the despairing child in me, - though, perhaps, it is better to look at the present over-complicated world with wondering and realizing eyes. - There's that wretched snowfall again: if anyone wants a ruthless foot-breaking in a luscious little plaster coffin, go ahead! 

    Porridge-ice, mirrors, and armour-freezes now all go on and on, and the human body falls, thundering and humiliated, and looks up in mute silence at the grinning wretches: at Winter, who has so treated and mocked him! And in such seemingly relative, no-man's-house gloom, The selfish mire of self-pity spreads like the plague! 

    We had better nowadays, in the sub-zero cold, tame ourselves into cocooned puppets, and cower and barricade ourselves in! Man now shrinks himself: nothing else can exist for him but the Inner Voices, and the tiny, minute murmurs of heartbeats - their trumpets still sending messages while Heaven sprays endless frozen crystal flowers!

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