A Partial History of Lost Causes 评价人数不足
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Aleksander did know. And he was starting to decide about Neva, too: really, it was the brain. Not the part of the brain that thinks up sonnets or show-offychess moves; not the part of the brain that sighs sorrowfully in corners and reads Solzhenitsyn and wonders what it all mean. It was the part that tells you to fuck, to run from things, to live, even when your better nature tells you not to.

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