here was a silence between them for a moment, and she wondered if all women, when in love, were torn between two impulses, a longing to throw modesty and reserve to the winds and confess everything, and an equal determination to conceal the love forever, to be cool, aloof, utterly detached, to die rather than admit a thing so personal, so intimate.

A familiar name on its own, however, does not carry its bearer far unless the talent is there, and the will to work.

A bad workman blames his tools.

Will you look into my eyes and tell me that you love me now?

From the very first, I knew that it would be so...I smiled to myself, and said, "That -- and none other.

[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.

You had to endure something yourself before it touched you.