Hunger

The cakes disappeared one by one; they seemed to go no way; no matter how I ate I was still greedily hungry.

I grew sick with pain and shame. I whispered "Ylajali" a few times, with hoarse voice, and flung back my head.

No, no, no; there would never be an end to my degradation!

The day might come when I would just take into my head to pass her haughtily by without glancing once towards her.

If I only had a place to go to.

I was not in the least proud; I dared make the assertion roundly, that I was one of the least arrogant beings up to date. I went ahead.

and I tried to console myself by thinking the worst thoughts about her;

I did not care for her any longer, certainly not; she was no longer in the very slightest degree lovely to me; she had fallen off.

It might easily have been the case that it was only me she looked at; I was not in the least astounded at that; it might be regret that began to stir in her.

The poor intelligent man is a far nicer observer than the rich intelligent man. The poor man looks about him at every step he takes, listens suspiciously to every word he hears from the people he meets, every step he takes affords in this way a task for his thoughts and feelings--an occupation. He is quick of hearing, and sensitive; he is an experienced man, his soul bears the sears of the fire....