Where is your sense of patriotism?" I keep it hid away safe, along with my sense of trust, Mr. Clent. I don't use 'em much in case they get scratched.

It was hopeless. She was flawless. She was a sunbeam. Mosca gave up and got on with hating her.

You, sir, are a romantic, and I'm afraid the condition is incurable. -Eponymous Clent

Everybody knew that books were dangerous. Read the wrong book, it was said, and the words crawled around your brain on black legs and drove you mad, wicked mad.

Well, you will have to do. If you had died along with your mother, I would have taught the cat to read.

My dear fellow," he continued more soberly, "If you have managed to complicate things by forming a sentimental attachment in less than a week, then I doubt there is anything I can do for you. You, sir, are a romantic, and I suspect your condition is incurable.

True stories seldom have endings. I don't want a happy ending, I want more story.