You Have Rather The Look Of Another

He Turned Away; He Threw Himself On His Face On The Sofa. 'oh, Jane! My Hope - My Love - My Life!' Broke In Anguish From His Lips.

You Can Write Nothing Of Value Unless You Give Yourself Wholly To The The Theme -- And When You So Give Yourself -- You Lose Appetite Ans Sleep -- It Cannot Be Helped --

It Seems To Me, Monsieur, That There Is Nothing More Galling In Great Physical Misfortunes Than To Be Compelled To Make All Those About Us Share In Our Sufferings. The Ills Of The Soul One Can Hide, But Those Which Attack The Body And Destroy The Faculties Cannot Be Concealed.

It Is Not Violence That Best Overcomes Hate -- Nor Vengeance That Most Certainly Heals Injury.

Whatever The Cause, I Could Not Meet His Sunshine With Cloud. If This Were My Last Moment With Him, I Would Not Waste It In Forced, Unnatural Distance. I Loved Him Well - Too Well Not To Smite Out Of My Path Even Jealousy Herself, When She Would Have Obstructed A Kind Farewell. A Cordial Word From His Lips, Or A Gentle Look From His Eyes, Would Do Me Good, For All The Span Of Life That Remained To Me; It Would Be Comfort In The Last Strait Of Loneliness; I Would Take It - I Would Taste The Elixir, And Pride Should Not Spill The Cup.