I have always thought that a wild animal never looks so well as when some obstacle of pronounced durability is between us. A personal experience has intensified rather than diminished that idea.

Within, stood a tall old man, clean shaven save for a long white moustache, and clad in black from head to foot, without a single speck of colour about him anywhere.

For life be, after all, only a waitin' for somethin' else than what we're doin'; and death be all that we can rightly depend on.

My revenge is just begun! I spread it over centuries, and time is on my side.

Listen to them, the children of the night. What music they make!

But a stranger in a strange land, he is no one. Men know him not, and to know not is to care not for.

Despair has its own calms.