In all lands, sailors form a race apart. They profess a congenital contempt for landlubbers. As for the tradesman, he understands nothing of sailors nor cares a fig about them. He is content to rob them if he can.
Honore de BalzacCoffee falls into the stomach... ideas begin to move, things remembered arrive at full gallop... the shafts of wit start up like sharp-shooters, similes arise, the paper is covered with ink...
Honore de BalzacThe secret of a great success for which you are at a loss to account is a crime that has never been found out, because it was properly executed.
Honore de Balzac