The Things That One Most

What A Strange Distance There Is Between Ill People And Well Ones.

When A Person That One Loves Is In The World And Alive And Well, And Pleased To Be In The World, Then To Miss Them Is Only A New Flavor, A Salt Sharpness In Experience. It Is When The Beloved Is Unhappy Or Maimed Or Troubled That One Misses With Pain.

If You Are Rich, You Have Lovely Cars, And Jars Full Of Flowers, And Books In Rows, And A Wireless, And The Best Sort Of Gramophone And Meringues For Supper.

Youth Knows No Remedy For Grief But Death.

I Can't Think Why I Was Cursed With This Inordinate Desire To Write, If The High Gods Weren't Going To Give Me Some More Adquate Means Of Expressing Myself Than That Which My Present Pedestrian Prose Affords.