I held out my arms to him and he came to me like a child.
A bad workman blames his tools.
Will you look into my eyes and tell me that you love me now?
Once a person gave his talent to the world, the world put a stamp upon it. The talent was not a personal possession any more. It was something to be traded, bought and sold. It fetched a high price, or a low one. It was kicked in the common market.
Women want love to be a novel, men a short story.
Come and see us if you feel like it,' she said. 'I always expect people to ask themselves. Life is too short to send out invitations.