The neurotic thinks himself both Hamlet and Claudius, in a world that belongs to Polonius.
Things are never so bad that they can't get worse. But they're sometimes so bad they can't get better.
All love is probationary, a fact which frightens women and exhilarates men.
Flesh goes on pleasuring us, and humiliating us, right to the end.
If the second marriage really succeeds, the first one didn't really fail.
No one can understand love who has not experienced infatuation. And no one can understand infatuation, no matter how many times he has experienced it.