The Difficulty About All This

Destitution And Excessive Luxury Develop Apparently The Same Ideals, The Same Marauding Attitude Towards Mankind, The Intensity Of Struggle For Material Goods, -- Surely Showing How Perfect Is The Meeting Of Extremes.

I Wonder Whether If I Had An Education I Should Have Been More Or Less A Fool That I Am.

The Difficulty About All This Dying, Is That You Can't Tell A Fellow Anything About It, So Where Does The Fun Come In?

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.

Truly Nothing Is To Be Expected Except For The Unexpected.