The Only Thing You Must Never Speak

That Penny Farthing Hell You Call Your Mind

[t]he Syndrome Known As Life Is Too Diffuse To Admit Of Palliation. For Every Symptom That Is Eased, Another Is Made Worse. The Horse Leech's Daughter Is A Closed System. Her Quantum Of Wantum Cannot Vary.

Go On Failing. Go On. Only Next Time, Try To Fail Better.

I Had Little Talent For Happiness.

If There Is One Question I Dread, To Which I Have Never Been Able To Invent A Satisfactory Reply, It Is The Question What Am I Doing.