The Gain Isn't Counted To The Recluse

I Wonder, Whether, If I Had Had Any Education I Should Have Been More, Or Less, Of A Fool Than I Am. It Would Have Deprived Me Surely Of Those Exquisite Moments Of Mental Flatulence Which Every Now And Then Inflate The Cerebral Vacuum With A Delicious Sense Of Latent Possibilities-of Stretching Oneself To Cosmic Limits, And Who Would Ever Give Up The Reality Of Dreams For Relative Knowledge?

How Heroic To Be Able To Suppress One's Vanity To The Extent Of Confessing That The Game Is Too Hard.

I Think That If I Get Into The Habit Of Writing A Bit About What Happens, Or Rather Doesn't Happen, I May Lose A Little Of The Sense Of Isolation And Desolation Which Abides With Me. My Circumstances Allowing Of Nothing But The Ejaculation Of One-syllabled Reflections, A Written Monologue By That Most Interesting Being, Myself, May Have Its Yet To Be Discovered Consolations.

Notwithstanding The Poverty Of My Outside Experience, I Have Always Had A Significance For Myself, And Every Chance To Stumle Along My Straight And Narrow Little Path, And To Worship At The Feet Of My Deity, And What More Can A Human Soul Ask For?

Physical Pain However Great Ends In Itself And Falls Away Like Dry Husks From The Mind, Whilst Moral Discords And Nervous Horrors Sear The Soul.