If All Good, Respectable People Had One

It Was The Darkness That Got You. It Was Heavy Darkness, Greasy And Compelling. It Made Walls Round You, And Shut You In So That You Felt Like You Could Not Breathe.

The Woman Had A Humble, Cringing Manner. Of Course, She Had Discovered That, Having Neither Money Nor Virtue, She Had Better Be Humble If She Knew What Was Good For Her.

Some Must Cry So That Others May Be Able To Laugh The More Heartily. Sacrifices Are Necessary.

Next Week, Or Next Month, Or Next Year I Will Kill Myself. But I Might As Well Last Out My Month's Rent, Which Has Been Paid Up.

All Of A Writer That Matters Is In The Book Or Books. It Is Idiotic To Be Curious About The Person.