The Flower And Fruit Of Love Are

These Thoughts Are Depressing I Know. They Are Depressing, I Wish I Was More Cheerful, It Is More Pleasant, Also It Is A Duty, We Should Smile As Well As Submitting To The Purpose Of One Above Who Is Experimenting With Various Mixtures Of Human Character Which Goes Best, All Is Interesting For Him It Is Exciting, But Not For Us. There I Go Again. Smile, Smile, And Get Some Work To Do Then You Will Be Practically Unconscious Without Positively Having To Go.

So I Fancy My Muse Says, When I Wish To Die, Oh No, Oh No, We Are Not Yet Friends Enough, And Virtue Also Says: We Are Not Yet Friends Enough.

Life May Be Treacherous, But You Can Always Depend On Death.

But One Wants The Idea Of Death, You Know, As Something Large And Unknowable, Something That Allows A Person To Stretch Himself Out. Especially One Wants It If One Is Tired. Or Perhaps What One Wants Is Simply A Release From Sensation, From All Consciousness For Ever.

The World Is Come Upon Me, I Used To Keep It A Long Way Off, But Now I Have Been Run Over And I Am In The Hands Of The Hospital Staff.