Though I have no productive worth, I have a certain value as an indestructible quantity.
How sick one gets of being 'good', how much I should respect myself if I could burst out and make everyone wretched for twenty-four hours; embody selfishness.
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.
I make it a rule always to believe compliments implicitly for five minutes, and to simmer gently for twenty more.
One has a greater sense of degradation after an interview with a doctor than from any human experience.