Three times a day petrovich showed up at the nurse's office for his injections, always using the hypodermic needle himself like the most craven of junkies, though after shooting up he would play the concert piano in the auditorium with astounding artistry, as though insulin were the elixir of genius.
There now remain only a few books, which they call books of the lesser prophets; and as i have already shown that the greater are impostors, it would be cowardice to disturb the repose of the little ones. Let them sleep, then, in the arms of their nurses, the priests, and both be forgotten together.
O sleep! O gentle sleep! Nature's soft nurse, how have i frighted thee, that thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down and steep my senses in forgetfulness? Why rather, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs, upon uneasy pallets stretching thee, and hush'd with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber, than in the perfum'd chambers of the great, under the canopies of costly state, and lull'd with sound of sweetest melody?
Halfway down the stairs, is a stair, where i sit. There isn't any, other stair, quite like, it. I'm not at the bottom, i'm not at the top; so this is the stair, where, i always, stop. Halfway up the stairs, isn't up, and isn't down. It isn't in the nursery, it isn't in the town. And all sorts of funny thoughts, run round my head: it isn't really anywhere! It's somewhere else instead!