Ironic and jittery, we are puzzled by the old heroes with their fighting, boasting, and cocksure lovemaking.

Listening to people keeps them entertained.

I regret. I apologize. I blame myself. I continue as before.

Few things are worth doing perfectly.

Nobody knows the trouble I've seen: even less, the trouble I've successfully avoided.

Pleasure usually comes when called, but not happiness.

Ideology has shaped the very sofa on which I sit.