While we are reading, we are all Don Quixote.

After a moment of shrinking back, we domesticate the grotesque.

Growth provides novel experiences for youth; decay the same, alas, for age.

Once wealth and beauty are gone, there is always rural life.

Awakening in the morning returns us to life, and to awareness of death.

I answered my father's demands for sympathy with silence.

Lead the reader toward the thought, then stop a little short.