The coward dies a thousand deaths, the brave but one? Of course. Who said it? I don’t know. He was probably a coward. He knew a great deal about cowards but nothing about the brave. The brave dies perhaps two thousand deaths if he’s intelligent. He simply doesn’t mention them.
So far, about morals, I know only that what is moral is what you feel good after and what is immoral is what you feel bad after.
Prose is architecture, not interior decoration, and the Baroque is over.
Pain does not matter to a man.
Often a man wishes to be alone and 1a girl wishes to be alone too and if they love each other they are jealous of that in each other, but I can truly say we never felt that. We could feel alone when we were together, alone against the others.
Nobody ever lives their life all the way up except bullfighters.
No, that is the great fallacy; the wisdom of old men. They do not grow wise. They grow careful.
No one should be alone in their old age.
Man is not made for defeat. A man can be destroyed but not defeated.
Madame, it is an old word and each one takes it new and wears it out himself. It is a word that fills with meaning as a bladder with air and the meaning goes out of it as quickly. It may be punctured as a bladder is punctured and patched and blown up again and if you have not had it it does not exist for you. All people talk of it, but those who have had it are all marked by it and I would not wish to speak of it further since of all things it is the most ridiculous to talk of and only fools go through it many times.
Madame, all stories, if continued far enough, end in death, and he is no true-story teller who would keep that from you.
Luck is a thing that comes in many forms and who can recognize her?
