...in His Gambling, He Had

The Loneliness Of The Man Is Slowly Being Borne In Upon Me. There Is Not A Man Aboard But Hates Or Fears Him, Nor Is There A Man Whom He Does Not Despise.

But This Is Not A World Of Free Freights. One Pays According To An Iron Schedule--for Every Strength The Balanced Weakness; For Every High A Corresponding Low; For Every Fictitious God-like Moment An Equivalent Time In Reptilian Slime. For Every Feat Of Telescoping Long Days And Weeks Of Life Into Mad Magnificent Instants, One Must Pay With Shortened Life, And, Oft-times, With Savage Usury Added.

It Is So Much Easier To Live Placidly And Complacently. Of Course, To Live Placidly And Complacently Is Not To Live At All.

Had The Cub Thought In Man-fashion, He Might Have Epitomized Life As A Voracious Appetite, And The World As A Place Wherein Ranged A Multitude Of Appetites, Pursuing And Being Pursued, Hunting And Being Hunted, Eating And Being Eaten, All In Blindness And Confusion, With Violence And Disorder, A Chaos Of Gluttony And Slaughter, Ruled Over By Chance, Merciless, Planless, Endless.

Age Is Never So Old As Youth Would Measure It.