The misery of a child is interesting to a mother, the misery of a young man is interesting to a young woman, the misery of an old man is interesting to nobody.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
There is the love and marriage and family kind of happiness, which is exceedingly boring to describe but nonetheless is important to have and dreadful not to have.
The mother's battle for her child with sickness, with poverty, with war, with all the forces of exploitation and callousness that cheapen human life needs to become a common human battle, waged in love and in the passion for survival.
Misery is a communicable disease.
I don't think of all the misery but of the beauty that still remains.
The two enemies of human happiness are pain and boredom.
People evolve and grow, and life is fascinating and fun and tragic.
It is misery, you know, unspeakable misery for the man who lives alone and who detests sordid, casual affairs; not old enough to do without women, but not young enough to be able to go and look for one without shame!
I've said many times that there only two things to write about: love and death. And when you have children, you remember that the world is full of sharp corners and dangerous things, and suddenly you have these small, soft creatures, which you love in almost painful way.
Life, an age to the miserable, and a moment to the happy.
Misery is the stuff of comedy, if one can just live long enough to get over it.