80 ordspråk av Logan Pearsall Smith
Logan Pearsall Smith
There is more felicity on the far side of baldness than young men can possibly imagine
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There is one thing that matters / to set a chime of words tinkling in the minds of a few fastidious people.
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This nice and subtle happiness of reading, this joy not chilled by age, this polite and unpunished vice, this selfish, serene life-long intoxication
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Those who set out to serve both God and Mammon soon discover that there is no God.
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Those who talk on the razor-edge of double-meanings pluck the rarest blooms from the precipice on either side.
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To become young again would seem to me an appalling prospect. Youth is a kind of delirium, which can be cured, if it is ever cured at all, by years of painful treatment.
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To suppose, as we all suppose, that we could be rich and not behave the way the rich behave, is like supposing that we could drink all day and stay sober.
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We grow with years more fragile in body, but morally stutter, and can throw off the chill of a bad conscience almost at once.
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We need new friends; some of us are cannibals who have eaten their old friends up; others must have ever renewed audiences before to reenact an ideal version of their lives
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We need two kinds of acquaintances, one to complain to, while to the others we boast.
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What humbugs we are, who pretend to live for Beauty, and never see the Dawn!
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What I like in a good author isn't what he says, but what he whispers.
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What is more enchanting than the voices of young people when you can't hear what they say
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What is more mortifying than to feel that you have missed the plum for want of courage to shake the tree?
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What joy can the years bring half so sweet as the unhappiness they've taken away?
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