Loving, not the beloved, is the joy of love. The beloved, knowing this, most resolutely declines to be grateful.
At sixty, I know little more about wisdom than I did at thirty, but I know a great deal more about folly.
Good manners protect the privileged, but leave the unprivileged more vulnerable.
Sex is not imaginary, but it is not quite real either.
My parents wanted me to solace them for sorrows they denied having had.
The routines of tourism are even more monotonous than those of daily life.