If I were asked to make a graph of my mental life, it would not be a curve. It would be a mad succession of zig-zags, dartings hither and thither, leaps upward and plunges downward, like a fever chart. This stranger that I steer behaves oddly and queerly. I cannot explain his behaviour.
Down Shoe Lane (1930)
I especially like ‘this stranger that I steer’!