Wisdom remembers. Happiness forgets.
The older we become, the more certain our future.
After I have said what is required by my vanity and my morality, I may find a moment for Truth.
Truth is a necessary phantom.
Plato's Symposium shows that flirtation and philosophy can further one another.
The mind scolds the heart, which makes excuses and goes its own way.
Working cuts down on both folly and wisdom.
I can imagine many things, but few clearly.
The lyric deals with love and sorrow, the aphorism with contradiction and deceit.
Dignity takes alarm at the unexpected sound of laughter.
A modest demeanor arouses thoughts of seduction.
Profusion gives pleasure up to a point; then we become squeamish.
Lack of reciprocity ruins friendships, but makes love affairs exciting for a time.
I am open-minded on all questions I care nothing about.
Emblem: the carapace of the great crowned snail is painted with all the flags of the United Nations.
Preserving tradition has become a nice hobby, like stamp collecting.
Lust and greed are more gullible than innocence.
There are different rules for reading, for thinking, and for talking. Writing blends all three of them.
Posterity--the forlorn child of nineteenth century optimism--grows ever harder to conceive.
When I try to portray to myself my heart's desire, nothing happens.
Compassion brings us to a stop, and for a moment we rise above ourselves.
Every path to a new understanding begins in confusion.
The power of lying is much less than the power of what is not to be discussed.
I reject all evidence that my fabulous beloved is an ordinary person who worries, watches TV, and has bouts of indigestion.
The public is a hibernating bear, hard to awaken and fond of honey.
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