The fine line between roaring with laughter and crying because it's a disaster is a very, very fine line. You see a chap slip on a banana skin in the street and you roar with laughter when he falls slap on his backside. If in doing so you suddenly see he's broken a leg, you very quickly stop laughing and it's not a joke anymore.
If a man had begun to hate an object of his love, so that love is thoroughly destroyed, he will, causes being equal, regard it with more hatred than if he had never loved it, and his hatred will be in proportion to the strength of his former love.
That's what you do with the worst day ever: you flip it on its back.
I have laid sorrow to sleep;Love sleeps.She who oft made me weepNow weeps.
Before sex, a man isn't thinking clearly and a woman is thinking clearly. After sex, it reverses. The man is thinking clearly and a woman isn't.
We wept when we were born though all around us smiled; so shall we smile when we die while all around us weep.
What looks tragic might be comic on second consideration, and what is comic might bring tears in time.
As if when someone close to us dies, we momentarily trade places with them, in the moment right before. And as we get over it, we’re really living their life in reverse, from death to life, from sickness to health.
