Both men and women have the same emotions, but they differ in their rhythm, and therefore man and woman will never come to understand each other.
The danger of happiness: “Everything is for my good; now all fate is dear to me,—who wishes to be my fate?”
Disgust with dirt can be so great that it prevents us from cleaning ourselves.
The discovery of reciprocity should fundamentally awaken the lover in relation to the loved one. "How? Is loving yourself simple enough? Or rather mundane? Either - sometimes".
You stop trusting smart people if you catch them being confused.
When you seek the beginning, you become cancer. A specialist in history looks back; in the end, his faith is also restored.
With respect to any party. The shepherd always needs a leading ram so that he does not become a ram when needed.
Help yourself: then everyone will help you. The principle of neighborly love.
The understanding of the tragic diminishes or increases depending on the sensitivity.
Poets are disrespectful to their own turmoil: they exploit it.
Trândăvia is the mother of all psychology. How? Is psychology a vice?
He who despises himself, values himself as a contemptible person.
The charm of knowledge would have been insignificant if you did not have to endure so much shame on the way to it.
Once you have made a decision, to cover your ears even in the face of the most serious and unpleasant argument - here is the sign of a strong character. So a random will leads to stupidity.
The disappointed one says: "I have looked for remarkable people, but I have always found only copies of their ideals."
The disappointed one says, "I listened to the echo and heard nothing but praise."
A clear thing ceases to interest us. What did that God mean who advised us: "Know thyself." Perhaps it meant: "Stop being self-interested, be objective." But Socrates? What about the "scientist"?
Chained heart - free mind. If you handcuff your heart tightly and hold it captive, then you can give your mind a lot of freedom - I've said this before. But they don't believe me, they seem to know this themselves.
The consequences of our actions hound us, regardless of the fact that we have, in the meantime, "corrected ourselves."
A perfect woman deals with literature as if she were committing a small sin: for experience, among other things, looking around to see if anyone noticed this and to be noticed by someone and to be noticed what she is doing. .
Advice in the form of a riddle: "If the bonds do not break themselves, try to break them with your teeth."
In the case of the man who has realized what reality is, pity is almost as ridiculous as tender hands in the case of a cyclops.
Comparing man and woman in general, the following can be said: woman would not be so skilled in the art of cooking if she did not instinctively feel that her destiny is second-rate.
Becoming a real husband means regaining that seriousness you had as a child while playing.
To be ashamed of your immorality is a step on that ladder at the top of which others are also ashamed of their morality.
It's so cold, so icy, you burn your fingers when you touch it! Every hand trembles at his touch! That is precisely why he is considered incandescent.
Where love or hate is not present the woman plays mediocre.
What is now thought to be a bad deed is usually a delayed echo of that deed which was once thought to be a good one—the atavism of the past ideal.
Authenticity, clear conscience, the obviousness of truth come only from the realm of feelings.
The hardest thing to bear is to have our vanity offended precisely when our pride is offended.