I'm more unstable than water.

I'm so soft I'm weak.

I can't stand pain.

I lie awake in the dead hours of night and I cry like a baby, like a fool.

I weep for myself, for my mother, for Lorna, for _you_...." "Hush!" She put a soft hand over his lips.
"Very well, I'll not be bitter," he went on, with mounting pulse, with thrill and rush of inexplicable feeling, as if at last had come the person who would not be deaf to his voice.