The Invisible Man

by H.G. Wells

“I can’t go on,” he was raving. “I can’t go on. Three hundred thousand, four hundred thousand! The huge multitude! Cheated! All my life it may take me! Patience! Patience indeed! Fool and liar!

Strychnine is a grand tonic, Kemp, to take the flabbiness out of a man.”

What is the good of the love of woman when her name must needs be Delilah?

I have no taste for politics, for the blackguardisms of fame, for philanthropy, for sport. What was I to do? And for this I had become a wrapped-up mystery, a swathed and bandaged caricature of a man!”