...and he is unable to know to love. He is too keen on a fanciful world to understand a living man well. In his, they are nothing but necessary material for kneading.
... He sufficiently well-behaves to everyone. That kindness carries scent of nature, poet, humanity and honesty... As if people could easily understand his whole character, his world within, his truly is so extra-ordinary that he can share it with nobody...
His hidden nature advises himself off all the women who tried to sneak into the sacred garden of loneliness, where the wandering inspiration and unimportant worry reside...They are invaders, and they are alarmed...
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Time, an invisibly mighty influence, a destructive breeze of calmness, ... it scrubs leaking pipe of wound with eagerly dull and rough surface, and the container would feel nothing as Time goes by. At a moment, it is disgustingly unbearable, and that moment passed, and nothing matters. Later means Never.
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