I Think It [religion] Is An Art,

A Loss Of Sensibility Follows A Loss Of Innocence, At Once A Penalty And A Compensation.

I Wanted So Terribly To Be Good To Him.

Thinking Of Death--strange, Beautiful, Terrible And A Long Way Off--made Me Feel Happier Than Ever.

Everything In The Least Connected With Him Has Value For Me; If Someone Even Mentions His Name It Is Like A Little Present To Me-and I Long To Mention It Myself

Only The Margin Left To Write On Now. I Love You, I Love You, I Love You.