Give my love to Fanny and tell her, if I were well there is enough in this port of Naples to fill a quire of paper. But it looks like a dream—every man who can row his boat and walk and talk seems a different being from myself. I do not feel in the world. —
the human heart can bear
the human heart can bear
the human heart can bear
Give my love to Fanny and tell her, if I were well there is enough in this port of Naples to fill a quire of paper. But it looks like a dream—every man who can row his boat and walk and talk seems a different being from myself. I do not feel in the world. —