You see, she had absolutely nowhere else to go.

My God died young. Theolatry i found Degrading, and its premises, unsound. No free man needs God; but was I free?

I know more than I can express in words, and the little I can express would not have been expressed, had I not known more.

I could isolate, consciously, little. Everything seemed blurred, yellow-clouded, yielding nothing tangible. Her inept acrostics, maudlin evasions, theopathies - every recollection formed ripples of mysterious meaning. Everything seemed yellowly blurred, illusive, lost.

Mnemosyne, one must admit, has shown herself to be a very careless girl.

I still dwelled deep in my elected paradise--a paradise whose skies were the color of hell-flames--but still a paradise.

I don't want an elderly gentleman from Vienna with an umbrella inflicting his dreams upon me.