How sick one gets of being "good," how much I should respect myself if I could burst out and make everyone wretched for twenty-four hours; embody selfishness.

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?

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

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.

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

I wonder whether if I had an education I should have been more or less a fool that I am.