It Is Wrong To Have An Ideal

And It Was Strange, I Thought, That Sorrow Lasts And Can Make A Man Look Forward To Death, But The Mood Of Victory Fills A Moment And Then Is Over

I'm My Own Writer. My Material Means I'm Entirely Separate.

I Profoundly Feel That People Are Letting You Down All The Time.

Look, Boys, It Ever Strike You That The World Not Real At All? It Ever Strike You That We Have The Only Mind In The World And You Just Thinking Up Everything Else? Like Me Here, Having The Only Mind In The World, And Thinking Up You People Here, Thinking Up The War And All The Houses And The Ships And Them In The Harbour. That Ever Cross Your Mind?

The World Is What It Is; Men Who Are Nothing, Who Allow Themselves To Become Nothing, Have No Place In It.