One of the interesting things about "outsidership" is that underneath it there's a longing to belong. i just wish the thing i refused to belong to - the species, western capital culture - was a little more respectable. my one true relaxation is my flotation tank, in which i can either meditate or just drift off.
So, mr. chadband-of whom the persecutors say that it is no wonder he should go on for any length of time uttering such abominable nonsense, but that the wonder rather is that he should ever leave off, having once the audacity to begin-retires into private life until he invests a little capital of supper in the oil-trade.
I can no more explain why i like "natural history" than why i like california canned peaches; nor why i do not care for that enormous brand of natural history which deals with invertebrates any more than why i do not care for brandied peaches. all i can say is that almost as soon as i began to read at all i began to like to read about the natural history of beasts and birds and the more formidable or interesting reptiles and fishes.
"i take my leave of you, mr. creakle, and all of you," said mr. mell, glancing round the room, and again patting me gently on the shoulders. "james steerforth, the best wish i can leave you is that you may come to be ashamed of what you have done today. at present i would prefer to see you anything rather than a friend, to me, or to anyone in whom i feel an interest."