No One Can Be Happy

He Is Very Fond Of Me, Almost Too Fond. I Could Do With Less Caressing And More Rationality. I Should Like To Be Less Of A Pet And More Of A Friend, If I Might Choose; But I Won't Complain Of That: I Am Only Afraid His Affection Loses In Depth Where It Gains In Ardour. I Sometimes Liken It To A Fire Of Dry Twigs And Branches Compared With One Of Solid Coal, Very Bright And Hot; But If It Should Burn Itself Out And Leave Nothing But Ashes Behind.

Reading Is My Favourite Occupation, When I Have Leisure For It And Books To Read.

She Left Me, Offended At My Want Of Sympathy, And Thinking, No Doubt, That I Envied Her. I Did Not - At Least, I Firmly Believed I Did Not.

I Love The Silent Hour Of Night, For Blissful Dreams May Then Arise, Revealing To My Charmed Sight What May Not Bless My Waking Eyes.

I Still Preserve Those Relics Of Past Sufferings And Experience, Like Pillars Of Witness Set Up In Travelling Through The Valve Of Life, To Mark Particular Occurrences. The Footsteps Are Obliterated Now; The Face Of The Country May Be Changed; But The Pillar Is Still There, To Remind Me How All Things Were When It Was Reared.