You, Sir, Are The Most

Prodigious Was The Amount Of Life I Lived That Morning.

But What Is So Headstrong As Youth? What So Blind As Inexperience?

Presentiments Are Strange Things: And So Are Sympathies; And So Are Signs; And The Three Combined Make One Mystery To Which Humanity Has Not Yet Found The Key.

No Mockery In This World Ever Sounds To Me So Hollow As That Of Being Told To Cultivate Happiness. What Does Such Advice Mean? Happiness Is Not A Potato, To Be Planted In Mould, And Tilled With Manure. Happiness Is A Glory Shining Far Down Upon Us Out Of Heaven. She Is A Divine Dew Which The Soul, On Certain Of Its Summer Mornings, Feels Dropping Upon It From The Amaranth Bloom And Golden Fruitage Of Paradise.

I Never Met Your Likeness. Jane: You Please Me, And You Master Me - You Seem To Submit, And I Like The Sense Of Pliancy You Impart; And While I Am Twining The Soft, Silken Skein Round My Finger, It Sends A Thrill Up My Arm To My Heart. I Am Influenced - Conquered; And The Influence Is Sweeter Than I Can Express; And The Conquest I Undergo Has A Witchery Beyond Any Triumph _i_ Can Win.