If I Were An Opera

Women Beg Me For It, And Not The Other Way Around." "then You Should Go To One Of Them." "oh, I Will. When We Return To London, I'm Going To Embark On A Spree Of Orgiastic Debauchery That Won't End Until Someone Is Arrested For It. But In The Meanwhile...do You Truly Expect That The Two Of Us Are Going To Share A Bed Tonight-and Tomorrow Night-as Chastely As A Pair Of Nuns On Holiday?

I Had Never Ironed Anything In My Life. The Proper Pressing Of A Shirt Was A Mystery Of The Universe Akin To Black Holes And Dark Matter.

One Of The Servants Had Reported That Daisy Had Been Sneaking Around The House At Night, Deliberately Tripping All The Traps To Keep The Mice From Being Killed. “is This True, Daughter?” Thomas Bowman Had Rumbled, His Gaze Filled With Ire As He Stared At Daisy. “it Could Be,” She Had Allowed. “but There Is Another Explanation.” “and What Is That?” Bowman Had Asked Sourly. Her Tone Turned Congratulatory. “i Think We Are Hosting The Most Intelligent Mice In New York!

Neither Of Us Seemed Able To Be Close To Anyone. Not Even Each Other. Closeness Meant The One You Loved The Most Would Cause You The Most Damage. How Did You Unlearn That? It Was Woven Deep Between Every Fiber And Vessel. You Couldn't Cut It Out.

...it Was Better To Answer, No Matter How Ineptly, Thank To Withhold A Reply. Because Sometimes Silence Could Wound Someone Nearly As Badly As A Bullet.