Glory is the sunshine of the dead

The man whom fate employs to awaken love in the heart of a young girl is often unaware of his work and therefore leaves it uncompleted.

The causes that govern the heart appear to be wholly alien to the results achieved. Are the forces that moved a desperate criminal the same that fill a martyr with pride, as both mount the scaffold?

We exaggerate misfortune and happiness alike. We are never as bad off or as happy as we say we are.

Women, perhaps even require a little hypocrisy.

Nothing about me surprises me.

Marriage must incessantly contend with a monster that devours everything: familiarity.