I didn't know, I didn't know, I didn't know.

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.

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

Now I no longer wish to be loved, beautiful, happy or successful. I want one thing and one thing only - to be left alone.

If she says goodbye perhaps adieu. Adieu - like those old time songs she sang. Always adieu (and all songs say it). If she too says it, or weeps, I'll take her in my arms, my lunatic. She's mad but mine, mine. What will I care for gods or devils or for Fate itself. If she smiles or weeps or both. For me.

Now at last I know why I was brought here and what I have to do.

Cold - cold as truth, cold as life. No, nothing can be as cold as life.