How Heroic To Be Able To Suppress

What Sense Of Superiority It Gives One To Escape Reading Some Book Which Every One Else Is Reading.

Physical Pain However Great Ends In Itself And Falls Away Like Dry Husks From The Mind, Whilst Moral Discords And Nervous Horrors Sear The Soul.

It Is So Comic To Hear Oneself Called Old, Even At Ninety I Suppose!

Who Would Ever Give Up The Reality Of Dreams For Relative Knowledge?

The Difficulty About All This Dying, Is That You Can't Tell A Fellow Anything About It, So Where Does The Fun Come In?