The World Is Not Unkind, And Reprobates

This Nice And Subtle Happiness Of Reading, This Joy Not Chilled By Age, This Polite And Unpunished Vice, This Selfish, Serene Life-long Intoxication.

The Denunciation Of The Young Is A Necessary Part Of The Hygiene Of Older People, And Greatly Assists The Circulation Of The Blood.

An Echo Of Music, A Face In The Street, The Wafer Of The New Moon, A Wanton Thought - Only In The Iridescence Of Things The Vagabond Soul Is Happy.

We Grow With Years More Fragile In Body, But Morally Stutter, And Can Throw Off The Chill Of A Bad Conscience Almost At Once.

What Humbugs We Are, Who Pretend To Live For Beauty, And Never See The Dawn!