I am no longer sure of anything. If I satiate my desires, I sin but I deliver myself from them; if I refuse to satisfy them, they infect the whole soul.
We no longer claim that a genuinely religious government can be democratic, but that it cannot be otherwise.
Time heals griefs and quarrels, for we change and are no longer the same persons. Neither the offender nor the offended are any more themselves.
We must have constantly present in our minds the difference between independence and liberty. Liberty is a right of doing whatever the laws permit, and if a citizen could do what they forbid he would no longer be possessed of liberty.
The essence of man is, discontent, divine discontent; a sort of love without a beloved, the ache we feel in a member we no longer have.
There is no longer a way out of our present situation except by forging a road toward our objective, violently and by force, over a sea of blood and under a horizon blazing with fire.
I read ‘Treasure Island’ for the first time at university. And I started to notice then how unresolved some things were. Later, I realised that Stevenson was interested in sequels, and I wondered whether he would have gone back to it had he lived longer.
When media coverage sets up a binary opposition between ‘the accuser’ and ‘the accused,’ there is no longer a victim or even an alleged victim – a flesh and blood person who was harmed by the violent act of another.
Once you have a disease like cancer, you look at life a bit differently. Some things that were important no longer seem as important as they were.
I’m slammed with an identity that can no longer say a word; mute with responsibility.