The finest language is mostly made up of simple unimposing words.
There was no gleam, no shadow, for the heavens, too, were one still, pale cloud; no sound or motion in anything but the dark river that flowed and moaned like an unresting sorrow.
"Abroad," that large home of ruined reputations.
There are answers which, in turning away wrath, only send it to the other end of the room.
Hatred is like fire, it makes even light rubbish deadly.
You are a good young man," she said. "But I do not like husbands. I will never have another.