>>23330864
>And, heavens, we thought we knew death, were intimate with it, and there were so many funerals but people died better, and one at a time. It was melodrama, and vanity, to think of it now. We flirted with death, read any libretto, even old Gilbert had poor Yum Yum face the prospect of being buried alive. You poor devils though, death had you in a dark alley and then cut your throat, no foreplay.”
>She was leaning against the wall, by the window. She ashed on the sill.
>“The war then, sent you mad?” I asked, diffidently.
“I wouldn’t say so. I’ve always been mad, it’s only that before last year, I could spend more time dancing with the fairy queen than Charon. Do you know those colliers on the Thames that are so heavy laden it takes only a snowfall to sink them? I suppose that was me, and Iwas foolish to venture into the snow unbidden. I won’t claim shellshock, I didn’t get blown up, but the boys... the boys apologized to us when they died, they apologized with their innards lying on their bellies: ‘I hate to do this to you, angels! Well done though!’ and we had done nothing save administer morphine and muck the bloody floors.”
This nibba suicided after being rejected from five MFA programs. What the fuck, what a waste.

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Why is Women's Romance so poorly written?