We Have Really No Absent Friends.

This, My First [bicycle] Had An Intrinsic Beauty. And It Opened For Me An Era Of All But Flying, Which Roads Emptily Crossing Theairy, Gold-gorsy Common Enhanced. Nothing Since Has Equalled That Birdlike Freedom.

People In Love, In Whom Every Sense Is Open, Cannot Beat Off The Influence Of A Place.

First Love, With Its Frantic Haughty Imagination, Swings Its Object Clear Of The Everyday, Over The Rut Of Living, Making Him All Looks, Silences, Gestures, Attitudes, A Burning Phrase With No Context.

... Love Dreads Being Isolated, Being Left To Speak In A Void -- At The Beginning It Would Often Rather Listen Than Speak.

Exhibitionism And A Nervous Wish For Concealment, For Anonymity, Thus Battle Inside The Buyer Of Any Piece Of Clothing.