It Is Not That I Think Or

Populus Me Sibilat, At Mihi Plaudo Ipse Domi Stimul Ac Nummos Contemplar In Arca. (the Public Hiss At Me, But I Cheer Myself When In My Own House I Contemplate The Coins In My Strong-box.)

Are You Conscious Of The Restful Influence Which The Stars Exert? To Me They Are The Most Soothing Things In Nature. I Am Proud To Say That I Don't Know The Name Of One Of Them. The Glamour And Romance Would Pass Away From Them If They Were All Classified And Ticketed In One's Brain. But When A Man Is Hot And Flurried, And Full Of His Own Little Ruffled Dignities And Infinitesimal Misfortunes, Then A Star Bath Is The Finest Thing In The World.

To All The World He Was The Man Of Violence, Half Animal And Half Demon; But To Her He Always Remained The Little Wilful Boy Of Her Own Girlhood, The Child Who Had Clung To Her Hand. Evil Indeed Is The Man Who Has Not One Woman To Mourn Him.

If My Future Were Black, It Was Better Surely To Face It Like A Man Than To Attempt To Brighten It By Mere Will-o’-the-wisps Of The Imagination.

I Cannot Live Without Brainwork. What Else Is There To Live For? Stand At The Window Here. Was Ever Such A Dreary, Dismal, Unprofitable World? See How The Yellow Fog Swirls Down The Street And Drifts Across The Duncoloured Houses. What Could Be More Hopelessly Prosaic And Material?