Now, Everybody, I Suppose, Is Aware That

The Saint Endeavors To Recover A Gift Which He Has Lost; The Sinner Tries To Obtain Something Which Was Never His. In Brief, He Repeats The Fall.

And There Were Other Rocks That Were Like Animals, Creeping, Horrible Animals, Putting Out Their Tongues, And Others Were Like Words I Could Not Say, And Others Like Dead People Lying On The Grass. I Went On Among Them, Though They Frightened Me, And My Heart Was Full Of Wicked Song They Put Into It; And I Wanted To Make Faces And Twist Myself About The Way They Did, And I Went On And On A Long Way Till At Last I Liked The Rocks And They Didn’t Frighten Me Any More

There Are Strange Things Lost And Forgotten In Obscure Corners Of The Newspaper.

It Is All Nonsense, To Be Sure; And So Much The Greater Nonsense Inasmuch As The True Interpretation Of Many Dreams - Not By Any Means Of All Dreams - Moves, It May Be Said, In The Opposite Direction To The Method Of Psycho-analysis.

It Was Better, He Thought, To Fail In Attempting Exquisite Things Than To Succeed In The Department Of The Utterly Contemptible.