After Voltaire: envy is chained to the portico of the temple of glory and can neither enter nor leave.
Victorian sorrow: the stars are winking in the sky, but not for us.
Small successes are still successes; great failures are still failures.
Our troubles keep us going.
Mild brown eyes beckon me to the past, but memory provides no clue.
Kafka: cries of helplessness in twenty powerful volumes.