The mutilation of the savage has its tragic survival in the self-denial that mars our lives.

“Your rank and wealth, Harry; my brains, such as they are—my art, whatever it ma…”

“Oh, I don’t care about Jack. I don’t care for anybody in the whole world but yo…”

“It is a sad truth, but we have lost the faculty of giving lovely names to thing…”

“Nothing really at any period of my life was ever of the smallest importance to …”