Ah, what have we missed! Was there ever such a poem written as 'Romeo and Juliet'?
Was there ever such music as Gounod's?
I thought the first time that I went to the opera that it would spoil Shakspere--how could it do otherwise?
I asked.

Could supreme perfection be improved upon?
Before the balcony scene had come to an end I found that I had never before understood the glory of the poem.

Ah, if you could understand what love means, my Phyllis, you would appreciate the poem and the music; the note of doom runs through it; that--that is wherein its greatness lies--passion and doom--passion and doom--that is my own life--the life of us women.

We live in a whirlwind of passion, and fancy that we can step out of the whirlwind into a calm at any moment.

We marry our husbands and we fancy that all the tragedy of human passion is over so far as we are concerned.