there is no aristocracy of grief. Grief is a great leveler.
I have great hopes that we shall love each other all our lives as much as if we had never married at all.
I cannot help thinking that the menace of Hell makes as many devils as the severe penal codes of inhuman humanity make villains.
Man, being reasonable, must get drunk; the best of life is but intoxication.
A timid mind is apt to mistake every scratch for a mortal wound.
Man is in part divine, A troubled stream from a pure source.
Armenian is the language to speak with God.
A business is seldom if ever built up except on lines of strictest integrity.
I choose the labyrinth.
Who prates of war or want after his wine? [Lat. , Quis post vina gravem militiam aut pauperiem crepat?]
I nodded, pretending I was relaxed. I watched the sunlight sparkling on the water and practiced mind-body integration for a few seconds by quietly hyperventilating.