Oldwick drew the pistol from his shirt. If he has made up his mind to kill me, he thought. I can't see that it will make any difference in the long run whether I infuriate him or not. The beggar can't kill me any deader in one mood than another.

Love always wins out over hate.

’Tis a Land-tax, vvhich he’s too poor to pay; / You, therefore muſt ſome other Impoſt lay.

The introvert abstracts from the object and deals with it by concepts concentrating upon the inner world of thought.