But Life Is A Battle: May We

[i]n His Presence I Thoroughly Lived.

Shake Me Off, Then, Sir--push Me Away; For I'll Not Leave You Of My Own Accord.

The Writer Who Possesses The Creative Gift Owns Something Of Which He Is Not Always Master - Something That, At Times, Strangely Wills And Works For Itself.

I Had Not Intended To Love Him; The Reader Knows I Had Wrought Hard To Extirpate From My Soul The Germs Of Love There Detected; And Now, At The First Renewed View Of Him, They Spontaneously Revived, Great And Strong! He Made Me Love Him Without Looking At Me.

Am I Hideous, Jane? Very, Sir: You Always Were, You Know.