A room? A nice room? A beautiful room? A beautiful room with bath? Swing high, swing low, swing to and fro...This happened and that happened... And then the days came and I was alone.

Blot out the moon, Pull down the stars. Love in the dark, for we're for the dark So soon, so soon.

It is strange how sad it can be - sunlight in the afternoon, don't you think?

Every word I say has chains round its ankles; every thought I think is weighted with heavy weights.

But they never last, the golden days. And it can be sad, the sun in the afternoon, can't it? Yes, it can be sad, the afternoon sun, sad and frightening.

I am sad, sad as a circus-lioness.

What you take to be hyprocrisy is sometimes a certain caution, sometimes genuine, though ponderous, childish, sometimes a mixture of both.