Though I Have No Productive Worth, I

I Make It A Rule Always To Believe Compliments Implicitly For Five Minutes, And To Simmer Gently For Twenty More.

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

Destitution And Excessive Luxury Develop Apparently The Same Ideals, The Same Marauding Attitude Towards Mankind, The Intensity Of Struggle For Material Goods, -- Surely Showing How Perfect Is The Meeting Of Extremes.

It Is So Comic To Hear Oneself Called Old, Even At Ninety I Suppose!

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?