Tis Said That Persons Living On Annuities

There Is No Passion, More Spectral Or Fantastical Than Hate, Not Even Its Opposite, Love, So Peoples Air, With Phantoms, As This Madness Of The Heart.

Exhausting Thought, And Hiving Wisdom With Each Studious Year.

In Itself A Thought, A Slumbering Thought Is Capable Of Years; And Curdles A Long Life Into One Hour.

If I Don't Write To Empty My Mind, I Go Mad.

But Stories Somehow Lengthen When Begun.