I have no talent for making new friends, but oh such genius for fidelity to old ones.

[Referring to the birds:] Nat listened to the tearing sound of splintering wood, and wondered how many million years of memory were stored in those little brains, behind the stabbing beaks, the piercing eyes, now giving them this instinct to destroy mankind with all the deft precision of machines.

If there’s one thing that makes a man sick, it’s to have his ale poured out of an ugly hand.

no person will ever get into my blood as a place can ... People and things pass away, but not places.

It wouldn't make for sanity would it, living with the devil.

there's something about Paris that gives you a mental slap all the time, and you can't just sit still and do nothing. You've got to work, to keep up with the pace, the sting in the atmosphere.

Life was a series of greetings and farewells, one was always saying good-bye to something, to someone.