The sun was already declining and each of the trees held a premonition of night.
It was unbearable, and he thought again, 'How unhappy I am!' and became happier.
All men are equal — all men, that is to say, who possess umbrellas.
Spoon feeding in the long run teaches us nothing but the shape of the spoon.
Reverence is fatal to literature.
Faith, to my mind, is a stiffening process, a sort of mental starch.