One's Own Surroundings Means So Much To

My Temper Is Not Spoilt. I Am Absolutely Non-homicidal. Nor Do I Ever Attack Unless I Have Been Attacked First, And Then Heaven Have Mercy Upon The Attacker, Because I Don't! I Just Sharpen My Wits On A Wooden Head As A Cat Sharpens Its Claws On The Wood Legs Of A Table.

I Am An Unpopular Electric Eel Set In A Pond Of Goldfish.

It Is As Unseeing To Ask What Is The Use Of Poetry As It Would Be To Ask What Is The Use Of Religion.

If One Is A Greyhound, Why Try To Look Like A Pekingese?

One's Own Surroundings Means So Much To One, When One Is Feeling Miserable.