“In all private quarrels the duller nature is triumphant by reason of dullness.”
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In the vain laughter of folly wisdom hears half its applause.
I like not only to be loved, but also to be told I am loved.
Rome - the city of visible history, where the past of a whole hemisphere seems moving in funeral procession with strange ancestral images and trophies gathered from afar.
There is a sort of jealousy which needs very little fire it is hardly a passion, but a blight bred in the cloudy, damp despondency of uneasy egoism.