Asceticism and celibacy can conceal many incapacities.
I know that I am very much like everybody else, but not really.
Ideas about life organize perception; names of emotions organize sensations; rules of syntax organize thought. But pain comes on its own.
Full of troubles, the mind is still the only Garden of Delight.
Moderation in all things is best, but it's pretty hard to get excited about it.
Who would not give up wit for power and beauty?