It is a time when one’s spirit is subdued and sad, one knows not why; when the past seems a storm-swept desolation, life a vanity and a burden, and the future but a way to death. It is a time when one is filled with vague longings; when one dreams of flight to peaceful islands in the remote solitudes of the sea, or folds his hands and says, What is the use of struggling, and toiling and worrying any more? let us give it all up.
Mark TwainThe waves most washed me off the raft sometimes, but I hadn't any clothes on, and didn't mind.
Mark TwainThe exquisitely bad is as satisfying to the soul as the exquisitely good. Only the mediocre is unendurable.
Mark Twain