The coward dies a thousand deaths, the brave but one'.... (The man who first said that) was probably a coward.... He knew a great deal about cowards but nothing about the brave. The brave dies perhaps two thousand deaths if he's intelligent. He simply doesn't mention them.

Perhaps wars weren't won anymore. Maybe they went on forever. Maybe it was another Hundred Years' War.

No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader.

The bicycle riders drank much wine, and were burned and browned by the sun. They did not take the race seriously except among themselves.

Madame, all stories, if continued far enough, end in death, and he is no true-story teller who would keep that from you.

We're stronger in the places that we've been broken.

Happiness is often presented as being very dull but, he thought, lying awake, that is because dull people are sometimes very happy and intelligent people can and do go around making themselves and everyone else miserable. He had never found happiness dull. It always seemed more exciting than any other thing and capable of as great intensity as sorrow to those people who were capable of having it.