Without the blessing of cowardice, the world would long since have been torn to bits.
To be thoroughly modern, an aphorism should trail off vaguely rather than coming to a point.
Modern literature seduces with insults, riddles, and inside stories.
Once wealth and beauty are gone, there is always rural life.
My intentions go one way, my desires another. Thus I feel both self-indulgent and deprived.
What's the good of being stoical if nobody notices?