Flattery and insults raise the same question: What do you want?

My parents wanted me to solace them for sorrows they denied having had.

Compassion brings us to a stop, and for a moment we rise above ourselves.

Everyone values the good nature of a man with a gun.

With every physical pain, my moral fibre unravels a little.

The Enlightenment needs more shadow; the Romantic Movement less.

Affection reproaches, but does not denounce.