What one reads, or rather all that comes to us, is surely only of interest and value in proportion as we find ourselves therein, -- form given to what was vague, what slumbered stirred to life.

Though I have no productive worth, I have a certain value as an indestructible quantity.

What sense of superiority it gives one to escape reading some book which every one else is reading.

The difficulty about all this dying, is that you can't tell a fellow anything about it, so where does the fun come in?

It is an immense loss to have all robust and sustaining expletives refined away from one! At. moments of trial refinement is a feeble reed to lean upon.

One has a greater sense of degradation after an interview with a doctor than from any human experience.

Truly nothing is to be expected except for the unexpected.