I Do Not See Any Beauty In

When I Wrote My Book I Wanted To Love Someone. I Wanted To Be In Love. Now I Know That I Shall Never Be In Love - And I No Longer Wish To Be.

But In My Life, In My Personality, There Is An Essence Of Falseness And Insincerity. A Thin, Fine Vapor Of Fraud Hangs Always Over Me And Dampens And Injures Some Things In Me That I Value.

The World Is Like A Little Marsh Filled With Mint And White Hawthorn.

It Is With Pain That I Read Of The Dire Effects Of My Book Upon The Minds Of Young Girls.

I Do Not Sing Nor Play, But I Adore Music, Particularly Chopin. I Like Him Because I Cannot Understand Him.