The spirit was a libertine, but the flesh and its affections were chaste.
The genius of life is to take the spirit of childhood into old age.
Grief doesn't kill, love doesn't kill; but time kills everything, kills desire, kills sorrow, kills in the end the mind that feels them; wrinkles and softens the body while it still lives, rots it like a medlar, kills it too at last.
To rush headlong into the comforting darkness of selfhood as a reborn human being, or even as beast, an unhappy ghost, a denizen of hell. Anything rather than the burning brightness of unmitigated Reality.
So long as men worship the Caesars and Napoleons, Caesars and Napoleons will duly rise and make them miserable.
When in doubt, always act on the assumption that people are more honorable than you have any solid reason for supposing they are.