After my spectacular failures, I could not be satisfied with an ordinary success.
The truths I shun follow me, mumbling.
The Ancient Mariner seizes the guest at the wedding feast and will not let go until he has told all his story: the prototype of the bore.
There is a line between a definite maybe and an indefinite yes.
The self-righteous feel no need to be charming, and thus double their offensiveness.
Envy awakens at the sound of a distant laugh.