Youth is not enough. And love is not enough. And success is not enough. And, if we could achieve it, enough would not be enough.

We are irritated by rascals, intolerant of fools, and prepared to love the rest. But where are they?

Men enjoy being thought of as hunters, but are generally too lazy to hunt. Women, on the other hand, love to hunt, but would rather nobody knew it.

Flesh goes on pleasuring us, and humiliating us, right to the end.

A woman ought to look up to her husband, if only a half-inch.

The neurotic keeps minute track of his enemies; it is only his friends he is careless about.

Love looks forward, hate looks back, anxiety has eyes all over its head.