The so-called paradoxes of an author, to which a reader takes exception, often exist not in the author's book at all, but rather in the reader's head.
They call you heartless; but you have a heart and I love you for being ashamed to show it.
The melancholia of everything completed!
He who bears injustice alone is terrible to behold.
What? A great man? I only ever see the ape of his own ideal.
In constructing concepts, we overlook the fact that no two things are the same. There is no such thing as the concept of a leaf, only billions and billions of leaves.