I feel that I have something significant to say, but I cannot think what it is.
My mind no longer has romantic abysses, but has become shallow, with many little gaps and cracks.
The aphorism: a platitude that swerves, or slides all the way around.
Sentimentality is the respect the cold-hearted pay to feeling.
My ambition in life: to become successful enough to resume my career as a neurasthenic.
Constant talkers are unheard.