The cure for boredom is curiosity. There is no cure for curiosity.

Daily dawns another day; I must up, to make my way. Though I dress and drink and eat, Move my fingers and my feet, Learn a little, here and there, Weep and laugh and sweat and swear, Hear a song, or watch a stage, Leave some words upon a page, Claim a foe, or hail a friend- Bed awaits me at the end.

He lies below, correct in cypress wood, And entertains the most exclusive worms.

Somebody was using the pencil.

Accursed from their birth they be Who seek to find monogamy, Pursuing it from bed to bed— I think they would be better dead.

As I was saying to the landlord only this morning: 'You can't have everything'.

This is not a novel to be tossed aside lightly. It should be thrown with great force.