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

Who would ever give up the reality of dreams for relative knowledge?

Destitution and excessive luxury develop apparently the same ideals, the same marauding attitude towards mankind, the intensity of struggle for material goods, -- surely showing how perfect is the meeting of extremes.

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.

I think that if I get into the habit of writing a bit about what happens, or rather doesn't happen, I may lose a little of the sense of isolation and desolation which abides with me. My circumstances allowing of nothing but the ejaculation of one-syllabled reflections, a written monologue by that most interesting being, myself, may have its yet to be discovered consolations.

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

How fatally the entire want of humor cripples the mind.