“I should like to die. I am sickened at the brute world which you are smiling with. I hate men and women more. I see nothing but thorns for the future … the world is too brutal for me – I am glad there is such a thing as the grave – I am sure I shall never have any rest till I get there … I wish I was either in your arms full of faith or that a Thunder bolt would strike me.” GOOD GRIEF, John Keats! And you thought your high school boyfriend was melodramatic.

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