They will love me, thought Edgar. Yes. They will all love me. How tedious it is to be born so superior, what a burden it is. He let his eyes roam the street as his barber coiffed what remained of his hair. He watched the people passing: the rich, the poor and everyone in between. Cattle. Yes, they are as cattle. He laughed. No, not cattle. Sheep. Sheeple. I’ll bet no-one has thought of that before! What a pity we can’t make ‘people pies.’ Ha! People pies for the poor, leave the steaks for those who deserve and appreciate the finer things. Why, they don’t know a Laurent-Perrier from dish water. Ha! Well, they don’t deserve my genius but with great ability comes great responsibility.
In a world of so much suffering, vanity is insanity, and about as far from fair as one can be.
The vanity is a vice when it is ice, when it is warm emotionally we call that self love, and that's good.