When we die, no one remembers us for what we weighed. Our weight isn't etched into our headstones.
We are weighed down, every moment, by the conception and the sensation of Time. And there are but two means of escaping and forgetting this nightmare: pleasure and work. Pleasure consumes us. Work strengthens us. Let us choose.
It is wisdom to recognize necessity when all other courses have been weighed, though as folly it may appear to those who cling to false hope.
However difficult it is to be the homely friend of a reputed beauty, there are certain benefits. Most days, the humiliation of being the second choice is outweighed by the overflow of disappointed gentlemen.
Hate is nothing when weighed against survival. (Valentine)