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life is simply existence. That's what she tries to make it. There is no more sympathy between us than there is between the table & myself, perhaps less ha ha. Perhaps less. And I am young and longing and dying for sympathy for feeling, for human love & there is not any for me - none - none. I could almost accept Mr Sands who loves me and let him comfort & help me & love me for a little while. No one ever takes
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my hand or kisses me now as if they cared. He would. And I don't love him but then there would be comfort in being loved. Some people think I am cold - Cold - oh how my heart burns! Do cold people feel as I do? Tell me. Why am I rich - oh if I could only be poor - very very poor and Jim would love me. But he would'nt. No matter he would care for me then as much as he does now. Perhaps more - who knows - not less -