I Like This Day; I Like That

I Could Not Unlove Him Now, Merely Because I Found That He Had Ceased To Notice Me.

Gentle Reader, May You Never Feel What I Then Felt! May Your Eyes Never Shed Such Stormy, Scalding, Heart-wrung Tears As Poured From Mine. May You Never Appeal To Heaven In Prayers So Hopeless And So Agised As In That Hour Left My Lips: For Never May You, Like Me, Dread To Be The Instrument Of Evil To What You Wholly Love.

Let Your Performance Do The Thinking.

Happiness Quite Unshared Can Scarcely Be Called Happiness; It Has No Taste.

You, Sir, Are The Most Phantom-like Of All; You Are A Mere Dream