What I like in a good author is not what he says but what he whispers.
What humbugs we are, who pretend to live for beauty, and never see the dawn!
Don't laugh at youth for his affectations; he is only trying on one face after another to find his own.
How can they say my life is not a success? Have I not for more than sixty years got enough to eat and escaped being eaten?
If it's to be, it's up to me.
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