I have forgiven you. Nevertheless, begone!
Aphorisms are not true or false, but pointed or flat.
Children enjoy inflicting pain until unhappiness teaches them tenderness.
As children, our protests availed little. As adults, the same.
As I criss-cross the city hurrying, I feel always the unchanging cold beneath the pavement.
Smooth white skin invites something that will leave a trace, a kiss or a slap.