"Above all things, do not degenerate into a man," his friend would say to him.
Never did the wolf bite: the man did now and then.

At least, to bite was the intent of Ursus.

He was a misanthrope, and to italicize his misanthropy he had made himself a juggler.

To live, also; for the stomach has to be consulted.

Moreover, this juggler-misanthrope, whether to add to the complexity of his being or to perfect it, was a doctor.