And I thought to myself how those fast little articles forget everything, everything, while we, old lovers, treasure every inch of their nymphancy
Leave your incidental Dick.
I have often noticed that we are inclined to endow our friends with the stability of type that literary characters acquire in the reader's mind. No matter how many times we reopen 'King Lear,' never s...
Good by-aye!" she chanted, my American sweet immortal dead love; for she is dead and immortal if you are reading this.
I could not kill , of course, as some have thought. You see, I loved her. It was love at first sight, at last sight, at ever and ever sight.
I mean, I have the feeling that something in my mind is poisoning everything else.
There was no Lo to behold.
One last word,' I said in my horrible careful English, 'are you quite, quite sure that—well, not tomorrow, of course, and not after tomorrow, but—well—some day, any day, you will not come to live with...
My little cup brims with tiddles.
Queer, how I misinterpreted the designations of doom.
Why did I hope we would be happy abroad? A change of environment is that traditional fallacy upon which doomed loves, and lungs, rely.