Self-analysis always cheats.
I am never more myself than in my self-betrayals.
When I go out, I hope to leave the worst of myself at home.
The Lady: a fluty voice, sensible shoes, a melancholy sense of living by rules few still remember.
Mars and Venus are at it again. This time, Hephaestus is standing by with a private detective, a photographer, and a lawyer.
The Olympian gods cannot have grand passions because they cannot die.
Man invented the gods. Then the gods went off on their own, but not far.
When science drove the gods out of nature, they took refuge in poetry and the porticos of civic buildings.
My love grows wide and shallow in an effort to spread my losses.
Without the blessing of cowardice, the world would long since have been torn to bits.
To succeed, find the right rut and stay with it.
I would enjoy experiencing the hollowness of success at first- hand.
I would be glad to worship success if I could find her.
My neglected duties crowd around me in my dreams, murmuring.
Duty is whatever opposes inclination.
Frivolous sorrow is folly. Frivolous enjoyment is not.
Victorian sorrow: the stars are winking in the sky, but not for us.
Sorrow also fulfills Desire. Example: the Soaps.
When Medusa looks in the mirror, she sees the Lady of Sorrows.
Which is the supplement? Fantasy or daily routine?
Cruel impulses stir all about my kindly heart.
Unlike other vices, cruelty, alas, is never boring.
Victory brings obliviousness; defeat, attentiveness.
I tried self-sacrifice a couple of times in my youth.
The aphorism sometimes casts off cynicism and expresses strong feeling.
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