Life Never Become A Habit To Me.

Whatever Happens I Have Had These Blissful, Perfect Moments And They Are Worth Living For.

In Fact, Isn't It A Joy - There Is Hardly A Greater One - To Find A New Book, A Living Book, And To Know That It Will Remain With You While Life Lasts?

What Can You Do If You Are Thirty And, Turning The Corner Of Your Own Street, You Are Overcome, Suddenly, By A Feeling Of Bliss - Absolute Bliss - As Though You'd Suddenly Swallowed A Bright Piece Of That Late Afternoon Sun And It Burned In Your Bosom, Sending Out A Little Shower Of Sparks Into Every Particle Into Every Finger And Toe?

Wind Moving Through Grass So That The Grass Quivers. This Moves Me With An Emotion I Don't Even Understand.

What Is It With Me? Am I Absolutely Nobody, But Merely Inordinately Vain? I Do Not Know…. But I Am Most Fearfully Unhappy. That Is All. I Am So Unhappy That I Wish I Was Dead—yet I Should Be Mad To Die When I Have Not Yet Lived At All.