Soon I'll be 'hunting the cocaine bug,' as they call it, imagining that in my skin, under the flesh, are worms crawling, perhaps see them, see the little animals running around and biting me." She said it with a half-reckless cynicism.

"Oh, you don't know.

There are two souls in the cocainist--one tortured by the pain of not having the stuff, the other laughing and mocking at the dangers of it.

It stimulates.

It makes your mind work--without effort, by itself.