In after years you can return to your own country—to your friends. He beheld a tall gaunt man, his brown face corrugated like a winter's road, grim, stony. When I am leading a true life, a pure and simple life free of all stimulants and excitements, I think—I think— oh! with pellucid clearness; but if I so much as take a mouthful of meat—or anything—the mirror is all blurred.
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