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Despair is like forward children, who, when you take away one of their playthings, throw the rest into the fire read more
Despair is like forward children, who, when you take away one of their playthings, throw the rest into the fire for madness. It grows angry with itself, turns its own executioner, and revenges its misfortunes on its own head.
On stage I make love to twenty five thousand people; and then I go home alone.
On stage I make love to twenty five thousand people; and then I go home alone.
There's nothing I like less than bad arguments for a view that I hold dear.
There's nothing I like less than bad arguments for a view that I hold dear.
Why waste negative entropy on comments, when you could use the same entropy to create bugs instead?
Why waste negative entropy on comments, when you could use the same entropy to create bugs instead?
Worry not about the possible troubles of the future; for if they come, you are but anticipating and adding to read more
Worry not about the possible troubles of the future; for if they come, you are but anticipating and adding to their weight; and if they do not come, your worry is useless; and in either case it is weak and in vain, and a distrust of God's providence.
As long as you keep a person down, some part of you has to be down there to hold him read more
As long as you keep a person down, some part of you has to be down there to hold him down, so it means you cannot soar as you otherwise might.
Revenge is a kind of wild justice, which the more a man's nature runs to, the more ought law to read more
Revenge is a kind of wild justice, which the more a man's nature runs to, the more ought law to weed it out.
There is no arguing with him, for if his pistol misses fire, he knocks you down with the butt end read more
There is no arguing with him, for if his pistol misses fire, he knocks you down with the butt end of it.
The world goes whispering to its own,
"This anguish pierces to the bone;"
And tender friends go read more
The world goes whispering to its own,
"This anguish pierces to the bone;"
And tender friends go sighing round,
"What love can ever cure this wound?"
My days go on, my days go on.
