I Make It A Rule Always To

How Sick One Gets Of Being "good," How Much I Should Respect Myself If I Could Burst Out And Make Everyone Wretched For Twenty-four Hours; Embody Selfishness.

What Sense Of Superiority It Gives One To Escape Reading Some Book Which Every One Else Is Reading.

Ah! Those Strange People Who Have The Courage To Be Unhappy! Are They Unhappy, By The Way?

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?