Narcissus never wrote well nor was a friend.

Man hoards himself when he has nothing to give away.

Every decision you make is a mistake.

It is hideous and coarse to assume that we can do something for others-and it is vile not to endeavor to do it.

Hardly a book of human worth, be it heaven's own secret, is honestly placed before the reader; it is either shunned, given a Periclean funeral oration in a hundred and fifty words, or interred in the potter's field of the newspapers back pages.

I would rather take hellebore than spend a conversation with a good, little man.

Everything ultimately fails, for we die, and that is either the penultimate failure or our most enigmatical achievement.