The Beauty of Thoughts

I want to sink deeper and deeper, away from the surface with its hard, separate facts. To steady myself, let me catch hold of the first idea that passes. I wish I could hit upon a pleasant track of thought, a track directly reflecting credit upon myself. All the time I'm dressing up the figure of myself in my own mind, lovingly, stealthily. Not openly adoring it, for if I did that, I should catch myself out and stretch my hand at once for a book in self-protection. It is curious how instinctively one protects the image of oneself from idolatry or any other handling that could make it ridiculous or too unlike the original to be believed