The rain was still crashing down, angrily machine-gunning the large windows; it poured through the gutters up in the tower and funneled along the flat roof, sounding like footsteps on the ceiling.

Paris is the only city in the world where starving to death is still considered an art.

You women listen more to your heart and less to all the nonsense. That's why you live longer.

To truly hate is an art one learns with time.

It seems that in the advanced stages of stupidity, a lack of ideas is compensated for by an excess of ideologies.

The wider the author's arsenal of tools and the better technically equipped the storyteller is, the better the tale will be.

There are worse prisons than words.