No guilt is forgotten so long as the conscience still knows of it. — Stefan Zweig

One can run away from anything but oneself.

No envy is more mean than that of small-minded beings when they see a neighbor lifted, as though borne aloft by angels, out of the dull drudgery of their common existence; petty spirits are more ready to forgive a prince the most fabulous wealth than a fellow-sufferer beneath the same yoke the smallest degree of freedom.

The heart is able to bury deep and well what is urgently desires to forget.