Hope Is A Light Diet, But Very

In The First Woman We Love, We Love Everything. Growing Older, We Love The Woman Only.

My Writing Table Has Seen All My Wretchedness, Knows All My Plans, Has Overheard All My Thoughts.

People Who Are In Love Suspect Nothing Or Everything.

This Coffee Falls Into Your Stomach, And Straightway There Is A General Commotion. Ideas Begin To Move Like The Battalions Of The Grand Army Of The Battlefield, And The Battle Takes Place. Things Remembered Arrive At Full Gallop, Ensuing To The Wind. The Light Cavalry Of Comparisons Deliver A Magnificent Deploying Charge, The Artillery Of Logic Hurry Up With Their Train And Ammunition, The Shafts Of With Start Up Like Sharpshooters. Similes Arise, The Paper Is Covered With Ink; For The Struggle Commences And Is Concluded With Torrents Of Black Water, Just As A Battle With Powder.

True Lovers Know How Trifling A Thing Is Money Yet How Difficult To Blend With Love!