How little our careers express what lies in us, and yet how much time they take up. It's sad, really.

Dear, I can't write, it's all a fantasy: a kind of circling obsession.

Any memory for the most part depending on chance.

What are days for? Days are where we live. They come, they wake us Time and time over. Theyare to be happy in: Where can we live but days?

I work all day, and get half-drunk at night.

You can't put off being young until you retire.

Clearly money has something to do with life.