Ideally, if anything [was] any good, it would be indescribable.

The world may think it idiotic, Nor care at all we're symbiotic, But I will say at once and twice: I find it nice. I find it nice.

I tend to be rather inconsequential and trail off.

The helpful thought for which you look Is written somewhere in a book.

I have given up considering happiness as relevant.

Vice is nice, but a little virtue won't hurt you.

Mr Earbrass stands on the terrace at twilight. It is bleak; it is cold; and the virtue has gone out of everything. Words drift through his mind: anguish turnips conjunctions illness defeat string parties no parties urns desuetude disaffection claws loss Trebizond napkins shame stones distance fever Antipodes mush glaciers incoherence labels miasma amputation tides deceit mourning elsewards.