I went into a lather of misery watching them, and thinking of you, and how in the end you'll all be locked together, like the poor beasts that get their antlers mixed and are found dead that way, their heads fattened with a knowledge of each other that they never wanted, having had to contemplate each other, head-on, eye to eye, until death; well, that will be you and Jenny and Robin.
A strong sense of identity gives man an idea he can do no wrong; too little accomplishes the same.
We are adhering to life now with our last muscle - the heart.
Well, isn't Bohemia a place where everyone is as good as everyone else - and must not a waiter be a little less than a waiter to be a good Bohemian?
What is a ruin but time easing itself of endurance?
The priceless galaxy of misinformation called the mind.
We are beginning to wonder whether a servant girl hasn't the best of it after all. She knows how the salad tastes without the dressing, and she knows how life's lived before it gets to the parlor door.
An image is a stop the mind makes between uncertainties.
