You, Jane, I Must Have You For

I Am Very Happy, Jane; And When You Hear That I Am Dead, You Must Be Sure And Not Grieve: There Is Nothing To Grieve About. We All Must Die One Day, And The Illness Which Is Removing Me Is Not Painful; It Is Gentle And Gradual: My Mind Is At Rest. I Leave No One To Regret Me Much: I Have Only A Father; And He Is Lately Married, And Will Not Miss Me. By Dying Young, I Shall Escape Great Sufferings. I Had Not Qualities Or Talents To Make My Way Very Well In The World: I Should Have Been Continually At Fault.

My Rest Might Have Been Blissful Enough, Only A Sad Heart Broke It.

I Had A Theoretical Reverence And Homage For Beauty, Elegance, Gallantry, Fascination But Had I Met Those Qualities Incarnate In Masculine Shape, I Should Have Known Instinctively That They Had Nor Could Have Sympathy With Anything In Me.

Say Whatever Your Memory Suggests Is True; But Add Nothing And Exaggerate Nothing.

Now It Is Not Everybody, Even Amongst Our Respected Friends And Esteemed Acquaintance, Whom We Like To Have Near Us, Whom We Like To Watch Us, To Wait On Us, To Approach Us With The Proximity Of A Nurse To A Patient. It Is Not Every Friend Whose Eye Is A Light In A Sickroom, Whose Presence Is There A Solace.