I am constant alone—noticeably tensely constant—in my Wavering: and less constant in Wavering than in the ghoulish preference.
An odd and subtle doom.
[A thousand kisses]
To-morrow
AMONG my other gifts I own also Wantonness. In proof of which I am wishing as I sit here for a Thousand careless kisses: eleven o’clock of still evening—a Thousand Kisses.
A wonderful, wonderful attribute, Wantonness: rich, rich luster in the conscious temperament which owns it, a Gift-thing delicate and gorgeous.
By it I want a Thousand Kisses: a Thousand—made all of Wantonness.
Kisses come in differing kinds and only one is Wanton.
The kiss of a lover has an intense cosmic use: the kiss of a mother is tender fostering food: the kiss of a friend is vantage and grace of friendliness: the kiss of a child is cool charm of snowflakes and green springtime leaves.