Posterity--the forlorn child of nineteenth century optimism--grows ever harder to conceive.
Spontaneity comes after skill, not before.
My mother wanted to shrink from my clinging, but did not.
Humor does not rescue us from unhappiness, but enables us to move back from it a little.
Work saves us from melancholy. Pleasure exposes us to it.
Advice is more agreeable in the mouth than in the ear.