Lord Jim

...the kind of thing that by devious, unexpected, truly

diabolical ways causes me to run up against men with soft spots, with

hard spots, with hidden plague spots, by Jove! and loosens their tongues

at the sight of me for their infernal confidences; as though, forsooth,

I had no confidences to make to myself, as though--God help me!--I

didn’t have enough confidential information about myself to harrow my

own soul till the end of my appointed time...

so you see I am not particularly fit to be a receptacle of

confessions

Of course there

are men here and there to whom the whole of life is like an after-dinner

hour with a cigar; easy, pleasant, empty, perhaps enlivened by some

fable of strife to be forgotten before the end is told--before the end

is told--even if there happens to be any end to it.

Conrad é o cara no coração das trevas!