I keep asking myself: why a dingo dog?
If I am mad it is in a gentle, Jaquesian, melancholy manner.

I do not dash at life, rabid and foaming at the mouth.
I think the idiot simile must have been merely the misuse of language so common among the half-educated youth of Great Britain.
Yet when I come to consider my present condition, I have doubts as to my complete sanity.

Here am I, in a little, semi-fashionable French seaside place, away from my books and my comforts and my habits, as much interested in its vapid distractions as if the universe held no other pursuits worth the attention of a rational man.

And I have been here a calendar month.
To please Carlotta I wear white duck trousers, a pink shirt, and a yachting-cap.

I wired for them to my London tailor and they arrived within a week.