The letters in this sentence forming these words are my song. This book is my story, and this is a record of her glory engraved within the four cornerstones that my soul pillars upon. Luscious lips underlined with a wine-colored lipstick, all imaginary utopian splendors smiling within a crystal ball, are glittering lights beneath the apples of her eyes. Wonderfully written soprano sonnets, dripping with romantic intonations, and composed by pleasant-sounding...