wide-spreading lawns
Letter 10
June 1835
MY BELOVED ANGEL,
I am nearly mad about you, as much as one can be mad: I cannot bring together two ideas that you do not interpose yourself between them.
I can no longer think of nothing but you. In spite of myself, my imagination carries me to you. I grasp you, I kiss you, I caress you, a thousand of the most amorous caresses take possession of me.
As for my heart, there you will always be — very much so. I have a delicious sense of you there. But my God, what is to become of me, if you have de
June 1835
MY BELOVED ANGEL,
I am nearly mad about you, as much as one can be mad: I cannot bring together two ideas that you do not interpose yourself between them.
I can no longer think of nothing but you. In spite of myself, my imagination carries me to you. I grasp you, I kiss you, I caress you, a thousand of the most amorous caresses take possession of me.
As for my heart, there you will always be — very much so. I have a delicious sense of you there. But my God, what is to become of me, if you have de
flush of angry blood pervaded Bill's face.
spoke gravely and slowly, with no hint of the anger that was raging within
The pitch to which he was aroused was tremendous
crying with fear
the man whose hand he had bitten was angry.
to the cub the spectacle of her protective rage was pleasing.
the next moment, in a rush of anger, he was upon Lip-lip and snapping viciously.
And he fled to Kiche, raging at the end of her stick like an animal gone mad-to Kiche,
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