I am skeptical in principle, gullible in practice.
Jealousy is inconsolable because it cannot know the beloved
Nostalgia keeps dissolving the ironic narratives in which I have contained my past.
The routines of tourism are even more monotonous than those of daily life.
Cruelty is softened by fear, not pity.
Fail, and your friends feel superior. Succeed, and they feel resentful.
Most people regard getting their way as a matter of simple justice.
Folly always knows the answer.
Never ask a bore a question.
Mind and body obstruct one another's pleasures.
While we are reading, we are all Don Quixote.
When sages commend excess, Desire is sick.
Seeing my malevolent face in the mirror, my benevolent soul shrinks back.
Opportunity knocks, but doesn't always answer to its name.
Hatred observes with more care than love does.
City people make most of the fuss about the charms of country life.
I know that I am what I am. But I am not sure what I am.
Conscious thought is the tidying up at the end.
Some loves are like a vice that has ceased to give pleasure.
The only peace is being out of earshot.
While there's life, there's fear.
Sloth, not ill-will, makes me unjust.
Abyss-mongering makes professors and poets feel daring.
Title deeds generally outlast poems.
When poets go off the boil, they sound like bumble bees; when critics do, they sound like sewing machines.
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