The old man looked at him with his sun-burned, confident loving eyes.
There are only two places in the world where we can live happy: at home and in Paris.
I can't stand it to think my life is going so fast and I'm not really living it.
I believe that basically you write for two people; yourself to try to make it absolutely perfect; or if not that then wonderful. Then you write for who you love whether she can read or write or not and whether she is alive or dead.
Never fall in love?" "Always," said the count. "I am always in love.
I had seen nothing sacred, and the things that were glorious had no glory and the sacrifices were like the stockyards at Chicago if nothing was done with the meat except to bury it.