I Am A Sick Man...i

All Of A Sudden I Became Aware Of A Little Star In One Of Those Patches And I Began Looking At It Intently. That Was Because The Little Star Gave Me An Idea: I Made Up My Mind To Kill Myself That Night. I Had Made Up My Mind To Kill Myself Already Two Months Before And, Poor As I Am, I Bought Myself An Excellent Revolver And Loaded It The Same Day. But Two Months Had Elapsed And It Was Still Lying In The Drawer. I Was So Utterly Indifferent To Everything That I Was Anxious To Wait For The Moment When I Would Not Be So Indifferent And Then Kill Myself. Why -- I Don't Know.

Suppose, Gentleman, That Man Is Not Stupid.

You’re A Gentleman,” They Used To Say To Him. “you Shouldn’t Have Gone Murdering People With A Hatchet; That’s No Occupation For A Gentleman.

Even If We Are Occupied With Important Things And Even If We Attain Honour Or Fall Into Misfortune, Still Let Us Remember How Good It Once Was Here, When We Were All Together United By A Good And Kind Feeling Which Made Us Perhaps Better Than We Are.

Lamentations Comfort Only By Lacerating The Heart Still More. Such Grief Does Not Desire Consolation. It Feeds On The Sense Of Its Hopelessness. Lamentations Spring Only From The Constant Craving To Re-open The Wound.