who help to fill the world with fools. At any rate their words are unable to affect me. I can not distinguish between right and wrong in this scheme of things. It is one of the lines of reasoning in which I have gotten to the edge, the end. I have gotten to the point to which all logic finally leads. I can only say, What is wrong? What is right? What is good? What is evil? The words are merely words, with word-meanings.
Truth is Love, and Love is the only Truth, and Love is the one thing out of all that is real.
The Devil is really the only one to whom we may turn, and he exacts payment in full for every favor.
But surely he will come one day with Happiness for me.
Yet, oh, how can I wait!
To be a woman, young and all alone, is hard—hard!—is to want things, is to carry a heavy, heavy weight.
Oh, damn! damn! damn! Damn
