Literature is strewn with the wreckage of those who have minded beyond reason the opinion of others.
Once conform, once do what other people do because they do it, and a lethargy steals over all the finer nerves and faculties of the soul.
Women have served all these centuries as looking-glasses possessing the magic and delicious power of reflecting the figure of a man at twice its natural size.
Literature is strewn with the wreckage of men who have minded beyond reason the opinions of others.
For most of history, Anonymous was a woman.
The older one grows, the more one likes indecency.
If you do not tell the truth about yourself you cannot tell it about other people.
Each has his past shut in him like the leaves of a book known to him by heart and his friends can only read the title.
I have lost friends, some by death... others through sheer inability to cross the street.
I would venture to guess that Anon, who wrote so many poems without signing them, was often a woman.
Humor is the first of the gifts to perish in a foreign tongue.
I meant to write about death, only life came breaking in as usual.
You can not gain peace by avoiding life.
It is in our idleness, in our dreams, that the submerged truth sometimes comes to the top.