...and Once Again Dexter Is Struck By

I Love Him, She Thought. I'm Just Not In Love With Him And Also I Don't Love Him. I've Tried, I've Strained To Love Him But I Can't. I Am Building A Life With A Man I Don't Love, And I Don't Know What To Do About It.

Just Kidding' Was Exactly What People Wrote When They Meant Every Word.

As A Matter Of Fact, I Think There Are More Things Important In Life Than "relationships.

The Sad Fact Is That I Love Dickens And Donne And Keats And Eliot And Forster And Conrad And Fitzgerald And Kafka And Wilde And Orwell And Waugh And Marvell And Greene And Sterne And Shakespeare And Webster And Swift And Yeats And Joyce And Hardy, Really, Really Love Them. It’s Just That They Don’t Love Me Back.

All His Words And Actions Would Now Be Fit For His Daughter’s Ears And Eyes. Life Would Be Lived As If Under [her] Constant Scrutiny. He Would Never Do Anything That Might Cause Her Pain Or Anxiety Or Embarrassment And There Would Be Nothing, Absolutely Nothing In His Life To Be Ashamed Of Anymore.