FROM HELL'S HEART I STAB AT THEE, FOR HATE'S SAKE I SPIT MY LAST DODGEBALL AT THEE

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Know ye, now, Schumacher? Glimpses do ye seem to see of that mortally intolerable truth; that all deep, earnest thinking is but the intrepid effort of the soul to keep the open independence of her sea; while the wildest winds of volleyballs conspire to cast her on the treacherous, slavish bench? Dammit.