A Sick Thought Can Devour The Body's

A Sick Thought Can Devour The Body's Flesh More Than Fever Or Consumption.

She Was The Temptress Who Had Ensnared The First Man, And Who Still Continued Her Work At Damnation; She Was The Being Who Is Feeble, Dangerous, Mysteriously Troubling. And Even More Than Her Body Of Perdition, He Hated Her Loving Soul.

If I Could, I Would Stop The Passage Of Time. But Hour Follows On Hour, Minute On Minute, Each Second Robbing Me Of A Morsel Of Myself For The Nothing Of Tomorrow. I Shall Never Experience This Moment Again.

Conversation. What Is It? A Mystery! It's The Art Of Never Seeming Bored, Of Touching Everything With Interest, Of Pleasing With Trifles, Of Being Fascinating With Nothing At All.

She Was A Sweet Girl But Not Really Pretty, A Rough Sketch Of A Woman With A Little Of Everything In Her, One Of Those Silhouettes Which Artists Draw In Three Strokes On The Tablecloth In A Café After Dinner, Between A Glass Of Brandy And A Cigarette. Nature Sometimes Turns Out Creatures Like That.