Be happy, noble heart, be blessed for all the good thou hast done and wilt do hereafter, and let my gratitude remain in obscurity like your good deeds.
Well, it is a particular sin to permit grief for what is gone to poison the praise for what blessings remain to us.
The hostility and venomous response the topic of sexual trauma and rape in the military brings up, especially with men from my Era, is revealing. This opposition speaks to their guilt and toward the truth that stays hidden.
Besides the pleasure, there is always remorse, from the indulgence of our passions; and, after all, what have you men to fear from all this; the world excuses, and notoriety ennobles you?
I don’t think man was meant to attain happiness so easily. Happiness is like those palaces in fairy tales whose gates are guarded by dragons: we must fight in order to conquer it.
I am not proud, but I am happy; and happiness blinds, I think, more than pride.
Happy! who can answer for that? Happiness or unhappiness is the secret known but to oneself…
The truth is,’ replied Dantes, ‘that I am too happy for noisy mirth; ...joy takes a strange effect at times, it seems to oppress us almost the same as sorrow.
Better to hunt in fields, for health unbought, Than fee the doctor for a nauseous draught. The wise, for cure, on exercise depend; God never made his work for man to mend.
You wanted to see the world. And yet, all I want is to see you.
To me you were home, to you I was just a vacation.
War makes persons special, peoples cheap.
I am not a hero. Life has not required it of me.
From my Facebook Page: "You spend the first 50 years acquiring and the second 50 years getting rid of
History never repeats itself, historians do.
It's true what they say, then-history is written by the victors.
Caesar was a serial seducer of married women.
Honesty is the only way with anyone, when you’ll be so close as to be living inside each other’s skins.
When you give each other everything, it becomes an even trade. Each wins all.
She is not my mistress,' replied the young sailor gravely, ‘she is my betrothed.’ 'Sometimes one and the same thing,' said Morrel, with a smile. 'Not with us, sir,' replied Dantes.
And I sometimes think that a moment of touching is the difference between complete utter despair and the ability to carry on.
