in t office! itail of a race– seems to express ty of life, tual e and repair; all so casual, all so haphazard. . .

    But after life. talks so t t turns over, deluges one . er all, s be born to focus one’s eyesig ts of t toes of ts? As for saying  be in a condition to do for fifty years or so. t spaces of ligersected by talks, and rats of an indistinct colour—dim pinks and blues—e, become—I don’t know w. . .

    And yet t mark on t a  all. It may even be caused by some round black substance, suc over from t being a very vigilant  t on telpiece, for example, t imes over, only fragments of pots utterly refusing anniion, as one can believe.

    tree outside taps very gently on t to tly, calmly, spaciously, never to be interrupted, never to o rise from my co slip easily from one to anot any sense of ility, or obstacle. I  to sink deeper and deeper, as e facts. to steady myself, let me catc idea t passes. . . S o tually from some very  o take place on a summer’s evening—But orical fiction! It doesn’t interest me at all. I  track of t, a track indirectly reflecting credit upon myself, for test ts, and very frequent even in t mouse–coloured people, o  ts directly praising oneself; t is ty of ts like this:

    “And to tany. I said  e of an old  .  flo?” I asked—(but, I don’t remember tall floassels to t goes on. All time I’m dressing up tealt openly adoring it, for if I did t, I sc, and stretc once for a book in self–protection. Indeed, it is curious inctively one prote