He took his social pleasures once a year in Hong-Kong, after Easter. “In the end,” it seemed to be thinking, “they embalmed me with the utmost respect—sound spices chosen to endure—the best! I took my world as I found it. Awful shapes seemed to flit by, borne on the wings of the tempest, animating and directing its fury. I’ve just finished my first symphony!” He said proudly.
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