Yes, we who are full to the gorge with misery should look well around, doubting everything seen, done, spoken, precisely because we have a word for it, and not its alchemy

Life, the permission to know death.

Una's face was an unbroken block of calculation, saving where, upon her upper lip, a little down of hair fluttered. Yet it gave one an uncanny feeling. It made one think of a tassel on a hammer.

Too great a sense of identity makes a man feel he can do no wrong. And too little does the same.

One cup poured into another makes different waters; tears shed by one eye would blind if wept into another's eye. The breast we strike in joy is not the breast we strike in pain; any man's smile would be consternation on another's mouth.

A man's sorrow runs uphill; true it is difficult for him to bear, but it is also difficult for him to keep.

Man is the only thing that has no further use after something goes amiss.