He is carved from one integral block, which is hard, sweet, and fragrant as well.
He enjoys that only which is good for him; his pleasure, his desire, ceases when the limits of that which is good for him are overstepped.
He divines remedies for injuries; he knows how to turn serious accidents to his own advantage; That which does not kill him makes him stronger.
He instinctively gathers his material from all he sees, hears, and experiences (He is a selective principle; he rejects much.)
He is always in his own company, whether his intercourse be with books, with men, or natural scenery; he honours the things he chooses, the things he acknowledges, the things he trusts.
He reacts slowly to all kinds of stimuli, with that tardiness which long caution and deliberate pride have bred in him - he tests the approaching stimulus; he would not dream of meeting it half-way.
He believes neither in "ill-luck" nor "guilt"; he can digest himself and others; he knows how to forget - he is strong enough to make everything turn to his advantage
I am the very reverse of a decadent, for he whom I have just described is none other than myself.
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