False hope is nicer than no hope at all.

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The past is a pebble in my shoe.

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I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity.

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Men have called me mad; but the question is not yet settled, whether madness is or is not the loftiest intelligence– whether much that is glorious– whether all that is profound– does not spring from disease of thought– from moods of mind exalted at the expense of the general intellect.

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I remained too much inside my head and ended up losing my mind.

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I was never really insane except upon occasions when my heart was touched.

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And so, being young and dipt in folly, I fell in love with melancholy.

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Me volví loco, con largos intervalos de horrible cordura.

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Words have no power to impress the mind without the exquisite horror of their reality.

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A lie travels round the world while truth is putting her boots on.

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