The swinish drunkenness in which I had lived for months (this was accompanied by the sense of degradation and the old feeling of conviction of sin) was the last and best, and I could see for myself what it was worth.

There were all the broken-down old bums and loafers I had bought drinks for.

That was what remained of life.

Did I want to become like them?
A thousand times no; and I wept tears of sweet sadness over my glorious youth going out with the tide.

(And who has not seen the weeping drunk, the melancholic drunk?
They are to be found in all the bar-rooms, if they can find no other listener telling their sorrows to the barkeeper, who is paid to listen.) The water was delicious.