Women, war, and weariness

I'm worn out on my life considering the way that contention has eliminated all that fulfills a youthful individual.

Before I replace the dull fix over the left eye, I look at my damaged face and realize that, with my skewed shoulder and the leg that has been severed from the right knee down, no woman can ever again feel a connection to me.

Accept that I ought to be a genius.

I'm thankful that I don't have any close family members, that I still have a lot of money, and that I can buy love when I need it, which isn't often given the circumstances.

What precisely persuades individuals to keep diaries? because egotism is inherent. Self-interest is the most fascinating thing there is. Regardless of how long you expound on your sentiments, diaries can't make you wheeze!

Something thoughtful is a clear, white page that is hanging tight for one's impressions!

The last night, Suzette and I drank together in my loft; I felt like a monster as she left. After an amazing lunch and two Benedictines, I had the option to convince myself that her delicacy and energy were real and not the result of approximately countless francs. Later, when she left, I saw my face in the glass without the fix over the connection, and a severe discouragement fell upon me. I had believed that she would engage on Wednesday.

I am this rotten creature because I have an American grandmother, a French mother, and an English father. Paris—EEton—CCannes— Steady voyaging.— He spent a few years living the life of a wealthy wanderer.

The contention, combating an inconceivable punch, the conspicuousness, the pain, and the result Now Paris is back for exceptional treatment.

Why do I want to record this? for the right substitution by resulting ages? — Why?

I have a planning sense, so how should a journal begin with major areas of strength for me, regardless of whether just for my eyes?

I know not and care not.

Three enrapturing animals are coming to have tea with me today. Since Maurice educated them regarding my boorishness and forlornness, they consume sweet chocolate cake and tea. They want to show that they care about me.

I used to consider, in my plate of mixed greens days, where it counts for the cerebrums of ladies—when they have the mental capacity! — The cleverest of

They are by and large without a genuine sense, and they just barely handle the overall worth of things, yet they make the

the appeal of life, for some explanation.

I'll examine these three once I see them. a person who has been separated from their spouse for two years, a widow, and a third person whose spouse is fighting.

All, as shown by Maurice, are extraordinarily engaging and ready for anything that could occur. He asserts that it will significantly assist me. It will be seen.

Night. They showed up alongside Maurice and Alwood Chester, members of the American Red Cross. They gave unimportant, unforgiving shouts of

appreciation for the room.

"What a wonderful area! How messed up! English? — Indeed, the English dix-septième was visible: What silver!" Also, everything is slick and clean! — And the air massage of the introvert is so appealing! — Hein."

"Beyond a shadow of a doubt, the conflict is pointlessly broad. One has given of one's time in the foremost year; in any case, before long, truly, deficiency has squashed one! — Additionally, harmony should unquestionably soon emerge following the spring's hostility—and one should live!"

Before drinking alcohol, they smoked constantly and ate a lot of chocolate cake.

They were so in style! accordingly versatile. Adaptable supports, or none at all, were worn by them. They were generally around painted; cheeks of

the new assortment, rather apricot concealed—and red lips. The separated individual continued to try to excite my resources with her awe-inspiring half-closing of the eyes while becoming flushed with her full mouth after they had finished the most common way of crunching, drawing out their gold mirrors, lip glimmer, and powder.

They talked about their recent good times with friends, partners, and interests, as well as the theater. They likewise discussed Gabrielle, whose spouse passed away the week before. "So moronic of him, since one of Alice's "mates" among the Ministers could without a doubt have him a fragile work, and one must persistently help one's sidekicks!" Alice esteemed Gabrielle. — Anyway he

has left her particularly obliged—Gabrielle will well chase in her crepe—and it is somewhat close—war can't try to be war—Que voulez vous?'

"In light of everything, will it be as fulfilling to accept concordance around mid-year?" — One will truly have to move, obviously; that will be awesome.

In any case, for the rest? There might be problems and more trouble in the future. One has performed extraordinarily all through the contention—believe it or not, decently—Nest ce pas, mom Cherie—nest ce pas?"

Hence, they talked.

Maurice informs me that the married love interest has the option to keep an eye on his significant other at their Landes home. However, for peace to prevail, he must remain with his family, and the wife may be dissatisfied with the affair.

The isolated person's three sweethearts will be in Paris in the meantime. The wedded one's perfect partner returned consistently—no doubt,

Vehemently, congeniality will have its obstructions. The conflict knows its pay. Yet expansive ones!"

Precisely when they had taken out, promising to return very soon—to supper this time—and see all the "flawless apartments,"

Burton came into the space to wipe out the tea things. He cleared up the cigarette debris that had fallen onto the William and Mary English lac table, which houses the huge light, as he painstakingly eliminated the silver debris plates that were loaded down with the closures and returned them clean. He had scarcely hacked by then.

Sir Nicholas: "Will you let me open the window?"

"The night is outrageously cold."

He added a second sign to the fire and threw the second casement wide.

He said, "You'll participate in your dinner better now, Sir," which made me shiver.

I want to be a performer and play for myself. I have two hands, yet perhaps my left shoulder hurts an excessive amount to play frequently. I can't use my support much because of my shoulder, so I can't walk. Reading for too long causes pain in one eye, and the stump below the knee is still too soft to support a false leg. These subtleties

are maybe the support behind my exhaustion with life.

I guess the women who came today have a reason for being here. At the most exclusive restaurant, you can dine openly with them and not mind meeting your relatives. As well as being exceptionally beautiful, they were great tango accomplices before the conflict. Sables, pearl neckbands, and vehicle fuel are remembered for their costs. These three families are, for the most part, awesome, and their family members remain nearby in the background, so they are not déclassé. According to Maurice, they are the most amiable women in Paris and receive the most recent information from the Commanders. They are everywhere, and Coralie, the married one, at times goes to tea in a Red Cross uniform if she makes a point to go into a center for ten minutes to hold a weakened person's hand.

Since there are a lot of them, I guess they have their motivations.

Tomorrow Maurice is passing one more aide on to redirect me—American this time—here for "war work." According to him, I am one of the most brilliant travelers Maurice has ever encountered. Moreover, he guarantees me that I am as yet overpowering, so I ought to practice alertness—because I am not disgustingly rich!

Burton was sixty years old in my earliest memories. Burton knows the world.

Friday: The American adventurer charmed me. She was so savvy. She has very little cosmetics, and her dresses are almost six inches beneath her knees. Her tissue is round and firm. She has wicked and shrewd eyes.

She has two English friends who are close behind her, as well as any notable Americans she can get who will give her jobs in life. She is also acting as though she is an enthusiastic war worker, a "virtuous woman," and a "lady."

Although, in light of everything, these parasites have reliably existed, the contention has outfitted them with a rare opportunity. That's what Maurice declares: "to war work,"  a fresh-out-of-the-plastic new action word in the US, demonstrating one's objective of arriving in Paris and partaking in one's visit without limit.

Surprised by their toupé! At the point when she talks, apparently she administers and organizes each Broad and all accomplice legislative issues.

Are men inept? — Without a doubt, nitwits can't see the wiles of ladies. When I was a human male, they could treasure me; maybe I couldn't!

Have I said "love"?