Life Is The Great Teacher.

I Did Not Know Whether I Would Ever Speak To Her Or Not Or, If I Spoke To Her, How I Could Tell Her Of My Confused Adoration. But My Body Was Like A Harp And Her Words And Gestures Were Like Fingers Running Upon The Wires.

Her Lips Touched His Brain As They Touched His Lips, As Though They Were A Vehicle Of Some Vague Speech And Between Them He Felt An Unknown And Timid Preasure, Darker Than The Swoon Of Sin, Softer Than Sound Or Odor.

Under Cover Of Her Silence He Pressed Her Arm Closely To His Side; And, As They Stood At The Hotel Door, He Felt That They Had Escaped From Their Lives And Duties, Escaped From Home And Friends And Run Away Together With Wild And Radiant Hearts To A New Adventure.

That Ideal Reader Suffering From An Ideal Insomnia.

Beware The Horns Of A Bull, The Heels Of The Horse, And The Smile Of An Englishman.