I admit that I do indeed look good in red, though I have only worn so bold a colour once: one evening Nelson brought with him a silken robe and asked that I wear it. The soft drape of the fabric on my colouring pleased me, but both pleased and displeased him, I think, for he told me not to wear it again. In this, I disobeyed him - in his absence I occasionally wore that robe for the silken comfort it brought.

I did everything I could to try to love you, Nelson.

I promised. You were right. I promised. And I tried to keep that promise.

No, Amelia, I'm not brave. Not even a little. 

I'm desperate. 

I'm desperate and panicking.

While I worship my lord, I would give devotions to my lady, light a flame in her core from that same scar - the beginning of all - and warm her heart by adoring her body and adorning it with my own.

Who needs to leave the country, when the world is with you in a single room? 

Who needs sustenance when passion dripfeeds entirely?

Who needs a mask when it is stripped away by sweat and completion?

In my dream you are as the mist, a fleeting thought, a memory burned away by the sun of my true love. 

My apologies but I must note

The crack upon my ceiling

The perfect smoothness upon hers

Are nothing

Nothing