The wicked have none." He shrugged his shoulders.
"There's always an exit from one of these temporary little pits of torment," he said; "when one finds it too oppressive in the shade....
When one obtains a proper perspective, and retains one's sense of humour, and enough of conscience to understand the crime of losing time....

And when, in correct perspective, one realises the fictitious value of that temporary phase called the human unit, and when one cuts free from the absurd dogma concerning the dignity and the sanctity of that human unit....

I'm keeping you from your cigar and arm-chair and from Portlaw....

A good, kindly gossip, who fed my belly and filled my purse and loved me for the cards I played.

I'm a yellow pup to mock him.
I'm a pup anyhow....