Sink Me! Your Taylors Have Betrayed You!

I Shall Return, Doubt It Not. Such Love As Ours Was Not Created To Remain Unfulfilled. Whatever May Happen, Believe And Trust In Me, As I Shall In You, And Keep The Remembrance Of Me In Your Heart Without Sadness And Without Regret.

I Have So Often Been Asked The Question: "but How Did You Come To Think Of The Scarlet Pimpernel?" And My Answer Has Always Been: "it Was God's Will That I Should." And To You Moderns, Who Perhaps Do Not Believe As I Do, I Will Say, "in The Chain Of My Life, There Were So Many Links, All Of Which Tended Towards Bringing Me To The Fulfillment Of My Destiny."

Your Mock Saint Who Stands In A Niche Is Not A Woman If She Have Not Suffered, Still Less A Woman If She Have Not Sinned. Fall At The Feet Of Your Idol As You Wish, But Drag Her Down To Your Level After That -- The Only Level She Should Ever Reach, That Of Your Heart.

It Is Only When We Are Very Happy That We Can Bear To Gaze Merrily Upon The Vast And Limitless Expanse Of Water, Rolling On And On With Such Persistent, Irritating Monotony, To The Accompaniment Of Our Thoughts, Whether Grave Or Gay.

To Love, For Us Men, Is To Clasp One Woman With Our Arms, Feeling That She Lives And Breathes Just As We Do, Suffers As We Do, Thinks With Us, Loves With Us, And, Above All, Sins With Us.