Old men feel a slightly reluctant affection for one another.
Living too long exacts a painful price.
Old age learns about less after a lifetime of more.
In middle age, I practiced feeling old, but the real thing has been a rude surprise.
Virtue sometimes pretends. Vice is always sincere.
After ages of bombast, the rhetoric of virtue has become ironic and shy.
Vice is a dreary business. And virtue is not a lot of fun, either.
Good manners can render even virtue tolerable.
Once discover comfort, and there is no turning back.
Family romances are the only ones that never turn out happily.
The family is on its way out; couples go next; then no more keeping cats or parrots.
Blackmail is one of the great pastimes of family life.
My father was a patriarch inside a matriarchy, but never knew it.
A moment of eloquence enthralls us. An hour’s worth leaves us stupefied.
When disaster waves, I try not to wave back.
Many pains are imaginary, but all joys are real.
Thank God for the passing of the discomforts and vile cuisine of the age of chivalry!
Irony dissolves sentiment, but occasionally a sentiment is strong enough to dissolve irony.
By multiplying ironies, I evade commitments.
The ironies in the commonplace are my inspiration and delight.