Reading the epitaphs, our only salvation lies in resurrecting the dead and burying the living.
Jealousy would be far less torturous if we understood that love is a passion entirely unrelated to our merits.
In the spider-web of facts, many a truth is strangled.
History is the transformation of tumultuous conquerors into silent footnotes.
We endeavor to stuff the universe into the gullet of an aphorism.
There are those whose sole claim to profundity is the discovery of exceptions to the rules.
