The Way Of Even The Most Jusitifiable

All A Man Can Betray Is His Conscience.

And Perhaps In This Is The Whole Difference; Perhaps All The Wisdom, And All Truth, And All Sincerity, Are Just Compressed Into That Inappreciable Moment Of Time In Which We Step Over The Threshold Of The Invisible.

I Always Went My Own Road And On My Own Legs Where I Had A Mind To Go

I Was Constantly Watching Myself, My Secret Self, As Dependent On My Actions As My Own Personality

I Let Him Run On, This Papier-maché Mephistopheles, And It Seemed To Me That If I Tried I Could Poke My Forefinger Through Him, And Would Find Nothing Inside But A Little Loose Dirt, Maybe.