Home again, I can groan, scratch, and talk to myself.
The power of the past does not depend on our knowledge of it.
Explanations comfort us by giving the impression that there is an order in things.
The modest youth somehow knows just what to do for the cameras.
Beware of wallflowers. They expect to have everything done for them.
Self-satisfaction and self-pity are both condemned. What are people permitted to feel about themselves?