An aphorism is a generalization, therefore not modern.
I mean I never feel I feel what I ought to feel.
There are two kinds of hangover: in one you feel ill and incapable, in the other you feel ill and lucid.
If you forget everything else about me, please remember this. I walked down that street and I never looked back and I love you. I love you. I love you so much that I shall hate you for ever for today.
If anything might hurt her, silence would; and I wanted to hurt her.
Baseball and cricket are beautiful and highly stylized medieval war substitutes, chess made flesh, a mixture of proud chivalry and base-in both senses-greed.
The diary will really try and tell people who you are and what you were. The alternative is writing nothing, or creating a totally lifeless, as it is leafless, garden.
He knew the world and its absurdities as only an intelligent Irishman can; which is to say that where his knowledge or memory failed him, his imagination was always ready to fill the gap.
Piers is always going on about how he hated Stowe. As if that solves everything, as if to hate something means it can't have affected you.
All pasts are like poems; one can derive a thousand things, but not live in them.
It's like the day you realize dolls are dolls. I pick up my old self and I see it's silly. A toy I've played with too often. It's a little sad, like an old golliwog at the bottom of the cupboard. Innocent and used-up and proud and silly.
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