I will not argue the matter: Time wastes too fast: every letter I trace tells me with what rapidity Life follows my pen; the days and hours of it, more precious, my dear _Jenny!_ than the rubies about thy neck, are flying over our heads like light clouds of a windy day, never to return more----everything presses on----whilst thou art twisting that lock, ----see! 
I will not argue the matter: Time wastes too fast: every letter I write tells me how rapidly Life follows my pen; the days of it, more precious, my dear Jenny! than the rubies about thy neck, are flying over our heads like light clouds on a windy day, never to return - everything presses on - whilst thou art twisting that lock of hair, see! 