No One Loves Me, -

Opportunities Are Not Often Wanting Where Inclination Goes Before.

Oh, My Margaret--my Margaret! No One Can Tell What You Are To Me! Dead--cold As You Lie There You Are The Only Woman I Ever Loved! Oh, Margaret--margaret!

I Am So Tired - So Tired Of Being Of Being Whirled On Through All These Phases Of My Life, In Which Nothing Abides By Me, No Creature, No Place; It Is Like The Circle In Which The Victims Of Earthly Passion Eddy Continually.

Oh! That Look Of Love!" Continued He, Between His Teeth, As He Bolted Himself Into His Own Private Room. "and That Cursed Lie; Which Showed Some Terrible Shame In The Background, To Be Kept From The Light In Which I Thought She Lived Perpetually! Oh, Margaret, Margaret! Mother, How You Have Tortured Me! Oh! Margaret, Could You Not Have Loved Me? I Am But Uncouth And Hard, But I Would Never Have Led You Into Any Falsehood For Me.

We Do Not Look For Reason For Logic In The Passionate Entreaties Of Those Who Are Sick Unto Death; We Are Stung With The Recollection Of A Thousand Slighted Opportunities Of Fulfilling The Wishes Of Those Who Will Soon Pass Away From Among Us: And Do They Ask Us For The Future Happiness Of Our Lives, We Lay It At Their Feet, And Will It Away From Us.