Conscience represents a fetich to which good people sacrifice their own happiness, bad people their neighbors'.
Cruelty is the only sin.
Grandpa says we've got everything to make us happy but happiness.
nations decay from within more often than they surrender to outward assault.
The older I grow the more earnestly I feel that the few joys of childhood are the best that life has to give.
Doesn't all experience crumble in the end to mere literary material?