To Be Prejudiced Is The Privilege Of

Life Is One Long Struggle To Disinter Oneself, To Keep One's Head Above The Accumulations, The Ever Deepening Layers Of Objects ... Which Attempt To Cover One Over, Steadily, Almost Irresistibly, Like Falling Snow.

One Day I Shall Write A Little Book Of Conduct Myself, And I Shall Call It Social Problems Of The Unsociable. And The Root Problem, Beneath A Hundred Varying Manifestions, Is How To Escape. How To Escape, That Is, At Those Times, Be They Few Or Frequent, When You Want To Keep Yourself To Yourself.

I Seldom Meet Actors, They Are To Me Bright Strange Fishes Swimming In An Element Alien To Me; I Feel That To Meet Them Is To See Life.

Another Sad Comestive Truth Is That The Best Foods Are The Products Of Infinite And Wearying Trouble. The Trouble Need Not Be Taken By The Consumer, But Someone, Ever Since The Fall, Has Had To Take It.

A Hot Bath! How Exquisite A Vespertine Pleasure, How Luxurious, Fervid And Flagrant A Consolation For The Rigours, The Austerities, The Renunciations Of The Day.