If I Could I Would Always Work

I Despise Him For Himself, And Hate Him For The Memories He Revives!

It Was Not The Thorn Bending To The Honeysuckles, But The Honeysuckles Embracing The Thorn.

I Have Fled My Country And Gone To The Heather.

I Pray Every Night That I May Live After Him; Because I Would Rather Be Miserable Than That He Should Be — That Proves I Love Him Better Than Myself.

Wish And Learn To Smooth Away The Surly Wrinkles, To Raise Your Lids Frankly, And Change The Fiends To Confident, Innocent Angels, Suspecting And Doubting Nothing, And Always Seeing Friends Where They Are Not Sure Of Foes.