Most people are other people. Their thoughts are someone else's opinions, their lives a mimicry, their passions a quotation.
We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.
We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful what we pretend to be.
All time is all time. It does not change. It does not lend itself to warnings or explanations. It simply is. Take it moment by moment, and you will find that we are all, as I've said before, bugs in amber.
One can always be kind to people about whom one cares nothing.
The reason we all like to think so well of others is that we are all afraid for ourselves. The basis of optimism is sheer terror.
I wanted all things to seem to make some sense, so we could all be happy, yes, instead of tense. And I made up lies, so they could all fit nice, and I made this sad world a paradise.
The citadel was dark, and the heroes were sleeping. When they breathed, it was as if they were testing the air for dragon smoke.