My law-givers are Erasmus and Montaigne, not Moses and St Paul.
The crime of suicide lies rather in its disregard for the feelings of those whom we leave behind.
Nature pulls one way and human nature another.
When love flies it is remembered not as love but as something else. Blessed are the uneducated, who forget it entirely, and are never conscious of folly or pruriency in the past, of long aimless conversations.
Life is easy to chronicle, but bewildering to practice.
“It is Fate that I am here,” persisted George. “But you can call it Italy if it makes you less unhappy.”