Write about this man who, drop by drop, squeezes the slave's blood out of himself until he wakes one day to find the blood of a real human being--not a slave's--coursing through his veins.

Advertising is the very essence of democracy.

Love is a scandal of the personal sort.

What's the use of talking? You can see for yourself that this is a barbarous country; the people have no morals; and the boredom!

Eyes - the head's chief of police. They watch and make mental notes.

He is no longer a city dweller who has even once in his life caught a ruff or seen how, on clear and cool autumn days, flocks of migrating thrushes drift over a village. Until his death he will be drawn to freedom.

Please, understand that your life is bad and dreary!