I Have Left My Book, I Have

When One Reads These Strange Pages Of One Long Gone One Feels That One Is At One With One Who Once.

In This Life Our Sorrows Are Either Not Very Long Or Not Very Great Because Nature Either Overcomes Them By Habits Or Puts An End To Them By Sinking Under Their Weight. But In Hell The Torments Cannot Be Overcome By Habit, For While They Are Of Terrible Intensity They Are At The Same Time Of Continual Variety, Each Pain, So To Speak, Taking Fire From Another And Re-endowing That Which Has Enkindled It With A Still Fiercer Flame.

The Sea, The Snotgreen Sea, The Scrotumtightening Sea.

When I Makes Tea I Makes Tea, As Old Mother Grogan Said. And When I Makes Water I Makes Water.

One Of The Things I Could Never Get Accustomed To In My Youth Was The Difference I Found Between Life And Literature.