Call me Hillary
Some time ago — never mind how long really — having little or no passion in my soul and nothing particular to interest me at home, I thought I would sail about a little and see the virtual part of the world. It is a way I have of driving off melancholy and calming the mind. Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily gazing into space, and brimming with anguish and longing; and especially whenever my vices get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from descending into languid gin-fueled despair — then, I account it high time to get on line as soon as I can.
On second thought: Call me Miss Melville.