1 You've never had any of your own.
2 You never made anything in your own sweat.
3 I know that my own kind could not have believed it possible.
4 He treated me vilely, cursed me continually, and heaped his own work upon me.
5 I did my own work, and my own work only, and when and in what fashion I saw fit.
6 They blocked their own efforts, while Wolf Larsen, with but a single purpose, achieved his.
7 Callous as they were to my suffering, they were equally callous to their own when anything befell them.
8 For three days I did my own work and Thomas Mugridge's too; and I flatter myself that I did his work well.
9 Our own whistle was blowing hoarsely, and from time to time the sound of other whistles came to us from out of the fog.
10 Whatever was to be done I must do for myself; and out of the courage of fear I evolved the plan of fighting Thomas Mugridge with his own weapons.
11 I laughed bitterly to myself, and seemed to find in Wolf Larsen's forbidding philosophy a more adequate explanation of life than I found in my own.
12 He grinned when I handed it over, yet it was a grin that contained more sincere thanks than a multitude of the verbosities of speech common to the members of my own class.
13 I could imagine he was speaking the thoughts of his own mind as he read to me, and his voice, reverberating deeply and mournfully in the confined cabin, charmed and held me.
14 Concerning his own rages, I am convinced that they are not real, that they are sometimes experiments, but that in the main they are the habits of a pose or attitude he has seen fit to take toward his fellow-men.
15 I remember the scene impelled me to sudden laughter, and in the next instant I realized I was becoming hysterical myself; for these were women of my own kind, like my mother and sisters, with the fear of death upon them and unwilling to die.
16 Three days of rest, three blessed days of rest, are what I had with Wolf Larsen, eating at the cabin table and doing nothing but discuss life, literature, and the universe, the while Thomas Mugridge fumed and raged and did my work as well as his own.
17 And yet here you are, at the top of your life, where diminishing and dying begin, living an obscure and sordid existence, hunting sea animals for the satisfaction of woman's vanity and love of decoration, revelling in a piggishness, to use your own words, which is anything and everything except splendid.
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