Well, What I Mean Is That I

The Perfect Woman, You See [is] A Working-woman; Not An Idler; Not A Fine Lady; But One Who [uses] Her Hands And Her Head And Her Heart For The Good Of Others.

It Is Rarely That The Pleasures Of The Imagination Will Compensate For The Pain Of Sleeplessness.

O, You Have Torn My Life All To Pieces... Made Me Be What I Prayed You In Pity Not To Make Me Be Again!

I Wish I Had Never Been Born--there Or Anywhere Else.

My Eyes Were Dazed By You For A Little, And That Was All.