Despair is anger with no place to go.

It must infuriate our children to see us always so much more forbearing with everybody else's.

In life, as in restaurants, we swallow a lot of indigestible stuff just because it comes with the dinner.

We are all such a waste of our potential, like three-way lamps using one-way bulbs.

Spite is never lonely; envy always tags along.

We are never more self-righteous than when giving up what we should have shunned all along.

Being neurotic is like shooting fish in a barrel, and missing them.