In order to have the stuff of a tyrant, a certain mental derangement is necessary.

Old age, after all, is merely the punishment for having lived.

Shame on the man who goes to his grave escorted by the miserable hopes that have kept him alive.

If we could see ourselves as others see us, we would vanish on the spot.

If you're unlucky enough not to have alcoholic parents, it takes you a whole lifetime of intoxication to overcome the dead weight of their virtues.

If we manage to last in spite of everything, it is because our infirmities are so many and so contradictory that they cancel each other out.

To Foreswear vengeance is to chain oneself to forgiveness, to flounder in pardon, to be tainted by the hatred smothered within.