Hatred of the mother is familiar, but the mother's hatred still comes as a surprise.
Generosity knows how to count, but refrains.
I change my opinions often, but not my way of thinking.
After Voltaire: envy is chained to the portico of the temple of glory and can neither enter nor leave.
Consensus is usually made possible by vague language and shallow commitments.
No one could be the way I remember my father.