Nothing makes us love something more than the loss of it.
Even the most sensitive person can get used to even the most insensitive things.
The monstrous act by definition demands a monster.
Speaking of fruit, I’m down–I mean, he’s down–to his underwear.
Despair is a wholly selfish response to fortune’s slings and arrows.
Crazy people. They never think they’re crazy. Their craziness makes perfect sense to them.
Self-pity is egotism undiluted, after all—self-centeredness in its purest form.
You can only call someone crazy if there’s someone else who’s normal.
I think we’re seriously screwed when the men with guns decided to help the bad guys.
I always assumed it owed more to the fact that he didn’t like me.
Poets never die, I thought. They just fail in the end.