I Am Not Talking To You Now

I Like To See Flowers Growing, But When They Are Gathered, They Cease To Please. I Look On Them As Things Rootless And Perishable; Their Likeness To Life Makes Me Sad. I Never Offer Flowers To Those I Love; I Never Wish To Receive Them From Hands Dear To Me.

Every Atom Of Your Flesh Is As Dear To Me As My Own: In Pain And Sickness It Would Still Be Dear.

I Grant An Ugly Woman Is A Blot On The Fair Face Of Creation; But As To The Gentleman, Let Them Be Solicitous To Possess Only Strength And Valour: Let Their Motto Be:hunt, Shoot, And Fight: The Rest Is Not Worth A Flip.

It Is A Very Strange Sensation To Inexperience Youth To Feel Itself Quite Alone The World, Cut Adrift From Every Connection, Uncertain Whether The Port To Which It Is Bound Can Be Reached, And Prevented By Many Impediments From Returning To That It Has Quitted. The Charm Of Adventure Sweetens That Sensation, The Glow Of Pride Warms It; But Then The Throb Of Fear Disturbs It; And Fear With Me Became Predominant When Half An Hour Elapsed, And Still I Was Alone.

I Never Met Your Likeness. Jane: You Please Me, And You Master Me - You Seem To Submit, And I Like The Sense Of Pliancy You Impart; And While I Am Twining The Soft, Silken Skein Round My Finger, It Sends A Thrill Up My Arm To My Heart. I Am Influenced - Conquered; And The Influence Is Sweeter Than I Can Express; And The Conquest I Undergo Has A Witchery Beyond Any Triumph _i_ Can Win.