We Get Something To Do

Scott-there's Nothing In The World I Want But You-and Your Precious Love. All The Material Things Are Nothing. I'd Just Hate To Live In A Sordid, Colorless Existence-because You'd Soon Love Less-and Less-and I'd Do Anything-anything-to Keep Your Heart For My Own-i Don't Want To Live-i Want To Love First And Live Incidentally.

Life Has Puffed And Blown Itself Into A Summer Day, And Clouds And Spring Billow Over The Heavens As If Calendars Were A Listing Of Mathematical Errors.

Oh, The Secret Life Of Man And Woman--dreaming How Much Better We Would Be Than We Are If We Were Somebody Else Or Even Ourselves, And Feeling That Our Estate Has Been Unexploited To Its Fullest.

Women, Despite The Fact That Nine Out Of Ten Of Them Go Through Life With A Death-bed Air Either Of Snatching-the-last-moment Or With Martyr-resignation, Do Not Die Tomorrow--or The Next Day. They Have To Live On To Any One Of Many Bitter Ends.

By The Time A Person Has Achieved Years Adequate For Choosing A Direction, The Die Is Cast And The Moment Has Long Since Passed Which Determined The Future.