As a kid, I always went to therapists; the first time was when my parents were separated on my sixth birthday, then on and off since then.
Cruelty, very far from being a vice, is the first sentiment Nature injects in us all.
First the grub, then the morals.
Grub first, then ethics.
First feed the face, then talk right and wrong.
Eats first, morals after.
In the first minute that my soul is infused, the Image of God is imprinted in my soul; so forward is God in my behalf, and so early does he visit me.
I only used a cell phone for the first time after I was released. I had difficulty coping with it because it seemed so small and insubstantial.
There is nothing so slipperily alluring as sadness; we become sad in the first place by having nothing stirring to do; we continue in it, because we have found a snug sofa at last.
Death is only a launching into the region of the strange Untried; it is but the first salutation to the possibilities of the immense Remote, the Wild, the Watery, the Unshored.
Hell is an idea first born on an undigested apple dumpling.
We become sad in the first place because we have nothing stirring to do.
Surely a gentle sister is the second best gift to a man; and it is first in point of occurrence; for the wife comes after.
Birth: The first and direst of all disasters.
When publicly censured our first instinct is to make everybody a codefendant.
Patriotism: The first resort of a scoundrel.
I like bars just after they open in the evening. When the air inside is still cool and clean and everything is shiny. The first quiet drink of the evening in a quiet bar – that’s wonderful.
I’m doing philosophy like an old woman, first I’m looking for my pencil, then I’m looking for my glasses, then I’m looking for my pencil again.
If there were a verb meaning “to believe falsely,” it would not have any significant first person, present indicative.
First coffee, then a bowel movement. Then the Muse joins me.