If you shut up truth, and bury it underground, it will but grow.
What will be the death of me are buillabaisses, food spiced with pimiento, shellfish, and a load of exquisite rubbish which I eat in disproportionate quantities.
Blow the candle out, I don't need to see what my thoughts look like.
I would rather die of passion than of boredom.
The day is not far off when one ordinary carrot may be pregnant with revolution.
She might have liked to try to strangle him with those slender fingers of hers, but she wanted to make a job of it and this great patience with which she waited for her claws to grow was in itself a form of enjoyment.