Money enables you to multiply your sensations--to travel about,
and so forth. In doing so, you multiply your personality, as it were;
you lengthen your days, figuratively speaking; you come in contact with
more diversified aspects of life than a person of my limited means can
afford to do. The body, you say, is a subtle instrument to be played
upon in every variety of manner and rendered above all things as
sensitive as possible to pleasurable impressions. In fact, you want to
be a kind of Aeolian harp. I admit that this is more than a string of
sophisms; you may call it a philosophy of life. But it is not my
philosophy. It does not appeal to me in the least. You will get no
satisfaction out of me, Keith, with your hedonism. You are up against a
brick wall. You speak of my deliberately closing up avenues of
pleasure. They ought to be closed up, I say, if a man is to respect
himself. I do not call my body a subtle instrument; I call it a damned
nuisance. I don't want to be an Aeolian harp. I don't want my sensations
multiplied; I don't want my personality extended; I don't want my
outlook widened; I don't want money; I don't want aspects of life.
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