My father never raised his hand to any one of his children, except in self-defense.
Category: Inspirational
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I fell asleep reading a dull book and dreamed I kept on reading, so I awoke from sheer boredom.
Unprovided with original learning, unformed in the habits of thinking, unskilled in the arts of composition, I resolved to write a book.
Oh, life is a glorious cycle of song, A medley of extemporanea; And love is thing that can never go wrong; And I am Marie of Romania.
The world makes up for all its follies and injustices by being damnably sentimental.
It is pretty hard to tell what does bring happiness; poverty and wealth have both failed.
No nation was ever drunk when wine was cheap.
The wine seems to be very closed-in and seems to have entered a dumb stage. Sort of a Marcel Meursault.