I Wonder Whether If I Had An

Truly Nothing Is To Be Expected Except For The Unexpected.

It Is So Comic To Hear Oneself Called Old, Even At Ninety I Suppose!

I Think That If I Get Into The Habit Of Writing A Bit About What Happens, Or Rather Doesn't Happen, I May Lose A Little Of The Sense Of Isolation And Desolation Which Abides With Me. My Circumstances Allowing Of Nothing But The Ejaculation Of One-syllabled Reflections, A Written Monologue By That Most Interesting Being, Myself, May Have Its Yet To Be Discovered Consolations.

You Must Remember That A Woman, By Nature, Needs Much Less To Feed Upon Than A Man, A Few Emotions And She Is Satisfied.

Physical Pain However Great Ends In Itself And Falls Away Like Dry Husks From The Mind, Whilst Moral Discords And Nervous Horrors Sear The Soul.