Only By Pursuing The Extremes In One's

I Found Myself Both Touched And Irritated By The Discovery That She Was Vulnerable.

A Strange Melancholy Pervades Me To Which I Hesitate To Give The Grave And Beautiful Name Of Sorrow. The Idea Of Sorrow Has Always Appealed To Me But Now I Am Almost Ashamed Of It's Complete Egoism. I Have Known Boredom, Regret, And Occasionally Remorse, But Never Sorrow. Today It Envelops Me Like A Silken Web, Enervating And Soft, And Sets Me Apart From Everybody Else.

I Had A Strong Desire To Write And Some Free Time.

Love Is Worth Whatever It Costs.

Pity Is An Agreeable Sentiment, Uplifting Like Military Music.