I care for myself. The more solitary, the more friendless, the more unsustained I am, the more I will respect myself.

I am to take mademoiselle to the moon, and there I shall seek a cave in one of the white valleys among the volcano-tops, and mademoiselle shall live with me there, and only me.

One of those small but sharp recollections that return, lacerating your self-respect like tiny penknives, and forcing from your lips, as you sit alone, sudden, insane-sounding interjections.

My heart almost died within me; miserable longings strained its chords. How long were the September days! How silent, how lifeless!