“It wasn't fair, he thought peevishly. "Who said life was fair?" his father had said to him a hundred times. He had said the same himself to his own daughter. ("It's not fair, Daddy.") Parents were miserable buggers. It SHOULD be fair. It should be paradise.”
“What have I got in my pocket?" he said aloud. He was talking to himself, but Gollum thought it was a riddle, and he was frightfully upset."Not fair! not fair!" he hissed. "It isn't fair, my precious, is it, to ask us what it's got in it's nassty little pocketsess?”
“Why, then, did I always feel as if his happiness was my responsibility? It wasn't fair for him to burden me with that. It had never been fair.”
“Life isn't fair," he said, in his undisguised voice, and for once the Baudelaire orphans agreed with every word the man said.”
“You are fairly smart," I said after a while."You are fairly good at compliments," he answered.”
“That's not fair," I said."Georgina," he said simply. "We're in Hell.”