Thomas Kinkade Christmas Cottage painting

Thomas Kinkade Christmas Cottage paintingThomas Kinkade almost heaven paintingThomas Kinkade A Peaceful Retreat painting
that I had completed my Assignment, passed the Finals, and come through to bonafide Grand-Tutorship? There was no need: he saw what I'd seen and had become; from his eyes, hid deep behind their brows like an owl's in snowy brake, understanding glowed. I gripped his hand. "You don'thave to die this afternoon, Max. I've got a secret: Leonid's key. I can take you right out of this." I studied his face as I spoke. He touched the amulet-of-Freddie. The true scapegoatery, I reminded him, was not to die for studentdom's sake, but to take their failings upon oneself and live. "You misunderstood the amulet-of-Freddie."
"Ach,"he said, "not only that. You know why I been an all-round genius, George?" He smiled. "Because I never knew my real major. But I found out now what my l's-work is."
I asked what.
"To die," he said, delighted by the joke. "In studentdom's behalf, selfish or not, and even if it don't make sense."
"Are you a love-lover nowadays, Max?" I earnestly inquired. "Or a hate-hater, or what?"
Promptly, as if he'd expected the question, he replied: "Na, I don't hate hate any more. But I love love more than I don't hate hate."
"You're going to the Shaft?"
He nodded.