Ah! Those Strange People Who

Notwithstanding The Poverty Of My Outside Experience, I Have Always Had A Significance For Myself, And Every Chance To Stumle Along My Straight And Narrow Little Path, And To Worship At The Feet Of My Deity, And What More Can A Human Soul Ask For?

Though I Have No Productive Worth, I Have A Certain Value As An Indestructible Quantity.

I Think That If I Get Into The Habit Of Writing A Bit About What Happens, Or Rather Doesn't Happen, I May Lose A Little Of The Sense Of Isolation And Desolation Which Abides With Me. My Circumstances Allowing Of Nothing But The Ejaculation Of One-syllabled Reflections, A Written Monologue By That Most Interesting Being, Myself, May Have Its Yet To Be Discovered Consolations.

How Heroic To Be Able To Suppress One's Vanity To The Extent Of Confessing That The Game Is Too Hard.

One Has A Greater Sense Of Degradation After An Interview With A Doctor Than From Any Human Experience.