Unhappy, but not unhappy enough.

I say me, knowing all the while it's not me.

The blind have no notion of time. The things of time are hidden from them too.

[T]he syndrome known as life is too diffuse to admit of palliation. For every symptom that is eased, another is made worse. The horse leech's daughter is a closed system. Her quantum of wantum cannot vary.

I, of whom I know nothing, I know my eyes are open, because of the tears that pour from them unceasingly.

We are not saints, but we have kept our appointment. How many people can boast as much?

Yes, I dont know why, but I have never been disappointed, and I often was in the early days, without feeling at the same time, or a moment later, an undeniable relief.