Practice Typing
Notes from the Underground - Dostoyevsky, Fyodor ยท 60 words
What was I to do. I could not go on there it was evidently stupid, and I could not leave things as they were, because that would seem as though ... Heavens, how could I leave things. And after such insults. No. I cried, throwing myself into the sledge again. It is ordained. It is fate. Drive on, drive on.
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