I Want, By Understanding Myself, To Understand

Whenever I Prepare For A Journey I Prepare As Though For Death. Should I Never Return, All Is In Order.

I Think Of You Often. Especially In The Evenings, When I Am On The Balcony And It’s Too Dark To Write Or To Do Anything But Wait For The Stars. A Time I Love. One Feels Half Disembodied, Sitting Like A Shadow At The Door Of One’s Being While The Dark Tide Rises. Then Comes The Moon, Marvellously Serene, And Small Stars, Very Merry For Some Reason Of Their Own. It Is So Easy To Forget, In A Worldly Life, To Attend To These Miracles.

I Am Poor - Obscure - Just Eighteen Years Of Age - With A Rapacious Appetite For Everything And Principles As Light As My Purse.

If Only One Could Tell True Love From False Love As One Can Tell Mushrooms From Toadstools.

I Have Such A Horror Of Telegrams That Ask Me How I Am!! I Always Want To Reply Dead.