Hoping to live days of greater happiness, I forget that days of less happiness are passing by.
The art of losing isn't hard to master; so many things seemed filled with the intent to be lost that their loss is no disaster
What childishness is it that while there's breath of life in our bodies, we are determined to rush to see the sun the other way around?
The armored cars of dreams, contrived to let us do so many a dangerous thing.
One shouldn't get too involved with people who can't possibly understand one.