If beggars do not hate the rest of us, they are even more abject than I had imagined.
Loneliness is more likely to lead to fussy housekeeping than to grand views of the Universe.
Like love, grief fades in and out.
Outside literature, high-flown sentiments are merely exasperating.
Once I find the right maxim to apply, I feel that I have done all that can be expected of me.
The limits of prudence: one cannot jump out of a burning building gradually.