The Happiness Of Others Is Never Bearable

For This Was The Round Of Love: Fear Which Leads On Desire, Tenderness And Fury, And That Brutal Anguish Which Triumphantly Follows Pleasure.

Houses Are For Private Living, For Friends, And For Dogs.

A Strange Melancholy Pervades Me To Which I Hesitate To Give The Grave And Beautiful Name Of Sorrow. The Idea Of Sorrow Has Always Appealed To Me But Now I Am Almost Ashamed Of It's Complete Egoism. I Have Known Boredom, Regret, And Occasionally Remorse, But Never Sorrow. Today It Envelops Me Like A Silken Web, Enervating And Soft, And Sets Me Apart From Everybody Else.

If You Treat Life Well, Life Is Usually Good To You. And I Love Life. There's A Long-standing Affair Between Us.

No One Ever Has Time To Examine Himself Honestly, And Most People Look No Further Than Their Neighbors' Eyes, In Which They May See Their Own Reflection.