I Wish I Were Dead, Or That

There Are Many Worse Friends Than The Soft, Silent, Furry, Cat-folk.

It Is A Strange Thing To Read A Letter After The Writer Is Dead - A Bitter-sweet Thing, In Which Pain And Comfort Are Strangely Mingled.

If A Kiss Could Be Seen I Think It Would Look Like A Violet.

People Told Her She Hadn't Changed Much, In A Tone Which Hinted They Were Surprised And A Little Disappointed She Hadn't.

We've Had A Beautiful Friendship, Diana. We've Never Marred It By One Quarrel Or Coolness Or Unkind Word; And I Hope It Will Always Be So. But Things Can't Be Quite The Same After This. You'll Have Other Interests. I'll Just Be On The Outside.