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Oh, I won't starve while there's the Bible to make them feed me.

Try to help me if you want trouble or leave me alone— that ends trouble.

The county physician is a damned fool and you can go to hell!

You could have closed the door when you came in; do it when you go out. I'm tired. 

VIRTUE

Now? Why— whirl-pools of orange and purple flame feather twists of chrome on a green ground funneling down upon the steaming phallus-head of the mad sun himself— blackened crimson! Now? 