Habit is a compromise effected between an individual and his environment.
That desert of loneliness and recrimination that men call love.
Nothing happens. Nobody comes, nobody goes. It's awful.
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.
There is man in his entirety, blaming his shoe when his foot is guilty.
For in me there have always been two fools, among others, one asking nothing better than to stay where he is and the other imagining that life might be slightly less horrible a little further on.