All my life I've always spoiled the things that meant the most to me.
Don't do anything. Just tolerate me and let me suffer, knowing how you feel.
If you can talk brilliantly about a problem
What do you take me for? A fourteen karat sucker?
The world's religions, for all their parochialism, did supply a kind of consolation for this great ache. This shattering recognition of our mortality is at the root of far more mental illness than I suspect even psychiatrists are aware.
I’ve never been certain whether the moral of the Icarus story should only be, as is generally accepted, ‘don’t try to fly too high,’ or whether it might also be thought of as ‘forget the wax and feathers, and do a better job on the wings.