I am a strict monogamist: it is twenty years since I last went to bed with two women at once, and then I was in my cups and not myself.
What did he mean by "society"? The plural of human beings?
What uneasiness lies in being loved.
When I pretended to be precocious, people started the rumor that I was precocious. When I acted like an idler, rumor had it I was an idler. When I pretended I couldn't write a novel, people said I couldn't write. When I acted like a liar, they called me a liar. When I acted like a rich man, they started the rumor I was rich. When I feigned indifference, they classed me as the indifferent type. But when I inadvertently groaned because I was really in pain, they started the rumor that I was faking suffering. The world is out of joint.
Now I have neither happiness nor unhappiness. Everything passes. That is the one and only thing that I have thought resembled a truth in the society of human beings where I have dwelled up to now as in a burning hell. Everything passes.
I am convinced that human life is filled with many pure, happy, serene examples of insincerity, truly splendid of their kind-of people deceiving one another without (strangely enough) any wounds being inflicted, of people who seem unaware even that they are deceiving one another.
For someone like myself in whom the ability to trust others is so cracked and broken that I am wretchedly timid and am forever trying to read the expression on people's faces.
The phrase "work-life balance" tells us that people think that work is the opposite of life. We should be talking about life-life balance.
No day is so bad that it can not be fixed by a good nap.
Justice divine Mends not her slowest pace for prayers or cries.
Relax and take notes while I take tokes of the marijuana smoke