The transcendental promises a vacation from history.
My strengths make me contemptuous. My weaknesses make me charitable.
Few friendships could survive the moodiness of love affairs.
Illusions are hazardous, and so are disillusions.
In the labyrinth of a difficult text, we find unmarked forks in the path, detours, blind alleys, loops that deliver us back to our point of entry, and finally the monster who whispers an unintelligible truth in our ears.
Self-sacrifice usually contains an unspoken demand for payment.