The person whose doors I enter with most pleasure, and quit with most regret, never did me the smallest favor.
One truth discovered, one pang of regret at not being able to express it, is better than all the fluency and flippancy in the world.
To die is only to be as we were before we were born; yet no one feels any remorse, or regret, or repugnance, in contemplating this last idea.
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