When she reached the first hills of the Italic Mountains, she had a last view back on the skyline of her hometown Bookmarksgrove, the headline of Alphabet Village and the subline of her own road, the Line Lane. Pityful a rethoric question ran over her cheek, then she continued her way. On her way she met a copy. I should …
But who has any right to find fault with a man who chooses to enjoy a pleasure that has no annoying consequences, or one who avoids a pain that produces no resultant pleasure? In a free hour, when our power of choice is untrammelled and when nothing prevents our being able to do what we like best, every pleasure is …
But who has any right to find fault with a man who chooses to enjoy a pleasure that has no annoying consequences, or one who avoids a pain that produces no resultant pleasure? In a free hour, when our power of choice is untrammelled and when nothing prevents our being able to do what we like best, every pleasure is …
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But who has any right to find fault with a man who chooses to enjoy a pleasure that has no annoying consequences, or one who avoids a pain that produces no resultant pleasure? In a free hour, when our power of choice is untrammelled and when nothing prevents our being able to do what we like best, every pleasure is …
But who has any right to find fault with a man who chooses to enjoy a pleasure that has no annoying consequences, or one who avoids a pain that produces no resultant pleasure? In a free hour, when our power of choice is untrammelled and when nothing prevents our being able to do what we like best, every pleasure is …
But who has any right to find fault with a man who chooses to enjoy a pleasure that has no annoying consequences, or one who avoids a pain that produces no resultant pleasure? In a free hour, when our power of choice is untrammelled and when nothing prevents our being able to do what we like best, every pleasure is …