Nothing, Perhaps, Is Strange, Once You Have

Still I Sojourn Here, Alone And Palely Loitering, Though The Sedge Is Withered From The Lake And No Birds Sing. For I Sent The Bath Towel To The Wash This Morning, And Omitted To Put Out Another. I Have No Towel.

Behavior Of Such Cunning Cruelty That Only A Human Being Could Have Thought Of Or Contrived It We Call 'inhuman,' Revealing Thus Some Pathetic Ideal Standard For Our Species That Survives All Betrayals.

How Far Does One Combine Resistance To Over-control With Social Justice, I.e. Tolerable Living For People In General? We Are Too Selfish To Be Trusted, If Left Free, To Give Away Enough To Make People Comfortable Enough To Give Them A Chance. Yet If All This Is Ordered For Us, As To Some Extent It Has To Be, It So Soon Leads To Tyranny. It Is A Very Difficult Problem. If Only Human Beings Had More Pity, Unselfishness, And Justice And Didn't Need Coercion To Treat Each Other Decently.

Publishers Of Course Have You Altogether In Their Grip; If They Say You Must Do A Thing You Have Jolly Well Got To Do It.

Every Year, In The Deep Midwinter, There Descends Upon This World A Terrible Fortnight. ... Every Shop Is A Choked Mass Of Humanity ... Nerves Are Jangled And Frayed, Purses Emptied To No Purposes, All Amusements And All Occupations Suspended In Favor Of Frightful Businesses With Brown Paper, String, Letters, Cards, Stamps, And Crammed Post Offices. This Period Is Doubtless A Foretaste Of Whatever Purgatory Lies In Store For Human Creatures.