It Was A Book To Kill Time

They... Threw Themselves Into The Interests Of The Rest, But Each Plowed His Or Her Own Furrow. Their Thoughts, Their Little Passions And Hopes And Desires, All Ran Along Separate Lines. Family Life Is Like This - Animated, But Collateral.

Every Year, In The Deep Midwinter, There Descends Upon This World A Terrible Fortnight. ... Every Shop Is A Choked Mass Of Humanity ... Nerves Are Jangled And Frayed, Purses Emptied To No Purposes, All Amusements And All Occupations Suspended In Favor Of Frightful Businesses With Brown Paper, String, Letters, Cards, Stamps, And Crammed Post Offices. This Period Is Doubtless A Foretaste Of Whatever Purgatory Lies In Store For Human Creatures.

A Hot Bath! How Exquisite A Vespertine Pleasure, How Luxurious, Fervid And Flagrant A Consolation For The Rigours, The Austerities, The Renunciations Of The Day.

You Should Always Believe What You Read In The Newspapers, For That Makes Them More Interesting.

Sleeping In A Bed -- It Is, Apparently, Of Immense Importance. Against Those Who Sleep, From Choice Or Necessity, Elsewhere Society Feels Righteously Hostile. It Is Not Done. It Is Disorderly, Anarchical.