Oh, Jo, how could you? Your one beauty.
I only mean to say that I have a feeling that it never was intended I should live long. I'm not like the rest of you.
Where the heart is the mind works best.
I did fail, say what you will, for Jo wouldn't love me.
Mine first --mine last-- mine even in the grave!
Every few weeks she would shut herself up in her room, put on her scribbling suit, and fall into a vortex, as she expressed it, writing away at her novel with all her heart and soul, for till that was finished she could find no peace.