Most of our diversions do not so much delay death as accustom us to it.
After he has had his tantrum, the neurotic expects those around him to feel friendly and relaxed; after all, he does.
There are always a few people you do a lot for, and a few who do a lot for you, but they're not the same people.
Mumps, measles, and puppy love are terrible after twenty.
Despair is anger with no place to go.
We have to call it "freedom": who'd want to die for "a lesser tyranny"