Perhaps Misguided Moral Passion Is Better Than

The Human Soul Is Not Framed For Continued Proximity, And The Result Of This Enforced Neighbourhood Is Often An Appalling Loneliness For Which The Rules Of The Game Forbid Assuagement.

I Feel Half Faded Away Like Some Figure In The Background Of An Old Picture.

The Bottomless Bitter Misery Of Childhood: How Little Even Now It Is Understood. Probably No Adult Misery Can Be Compared With A Child's Despair.

Every Artist Is An Unhappy Lover.

The Notion That One Will Not Survive A Particular Catastrophe Is, In General Terms, A Comfort Since It Is Equivalent To Abolishing The Catastrophe.