Dearest Diary,
I fear I cannot stay long this evening for there is not much life remaining in mine eyelids. They are on their descent in moments. However it is not possible to retire before giving an account of the day, for it was more splendid than I've had in recent weeks. None can surpass the joy of attending the theatre in the company of a good friend, except the addition of the weekly services at the evening's conclusion. But to then partake of dinner and the arrival of yet another olde friend upon my return home, I am fortunate beyond what mere words can express. Happiness cannot e'en begin to describe such a day. I shall attempt a more descriptive account when my consciousness returns. Perhaps on the morrow?...
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