Pain is filtered in a poem so that it becomes finally, in the end, pleasure.
Most men pursue pleasure with such breathless haste that they hurry past it.
Speed provides the one genuinely modern pleasure.
Temperance is a mean with regard to pleasures.
The pleasure of sin is soon gone, but the sting remains.
Each indulgence in pleasure is an appointment made with misery.
Visits always give pleasure--if not the arrival, the departure.
Thought is the labor of the intellect, reverie is its pleasure.
Remorse, the fatal egg that pleasure laid.
Pleasure in the job puts perfection in the work.
In fact, 95% of the people in my films have been nothing less than a pleasure to work with.
It's always a pleasure when you get to work with people that you actually really like.
How strange," continued the king, with some asperity; "the police think that they have disposed of the whole matter when they say, 'A murder has been committed,' and especially so when they can add, 'And we are on the track of the guilty persons.
Christianity fucked men and women up. Men feel guilty and women have misguided anger. The result, a weak male. Fucking controls on our behaviour. It’s like a sickness. A control sickness.
This is an aspect of crime stories I never fully appreciated until I became one: it is so ruinously expensive to mount a defense that, innocent or guilty, the accusation is itself a devastating punishment. Every defendant pays a price.
Deception was an inherent trait of intelligent beings. Even his love, in her ample ardor, would weave him a guilty lie for his own good. And he treasured her just as well for those tales he was sure she'd already spun.
[M]an cannot be wicked without being evil, nor evil without being degraded, nor degraded without being punished, nor punished without being guilty. In short … there is nothing so intrinsically plausible as the theory of original sin.
This place is like the Army: the shark ethic prevails--eat the wounded. In a closed society where everybody's guilty, the only crime is getting caught. In a world of thieves, the only final sin is stupidity.
The truth may roar, but it's roaring does not terrify the blameless. Guilty conscience needs neither a critic nor an accuser. Remember, the truth has no aiding crutches; once it is limping, its name is "a lie'.
Because everyone is guilty for everyone else. For all the 'wee ones,' because there are little children and big children. All people are 'wee ones.' And I'll go for all of them, because there must be someone who will go for all of them.
Theoretically there's no reason one should get [writer's block], if one understands that writing, after all, is only writing, neither something one ought to feel deeply guilty about nor something one ought to be inordinately proud of.
