The promises of maniacs, like those of women, are not safely relied upon.
Everybody is as unstable as water.
He was never without misery, and never without hope.
Gold was not altogether certain what, anatomically, a gorge was, but he knew that his was rising.
Maybe a long life does have to be filled with many unpleasant conditions if it's to seem long. But in that event, who wants one?
Now you've given them hope, and they're unhappy. So the blame is all yours.