I don't want to die. Damn death. Long live life.

I will not say nothing. I will defend my church and my religion when it is insulted and spit on.

Moments of their secret life together burst like stars upon his memory.

He drew forth a phrase from his treasure and spoke it softly to himself: A day of dappled seaborne clouds.

The swift December dusk had come tumbling clownishly after its dull day and, as he stared through the dull square of the window of the schoolroom, he felt his belly crave for its food. He hoped there would be stew for dinner, turnips and carrots and bruised potatoes and fat mutton pieces to be ladled out in thick peppered flourfattened sauce. Stuff it into you, his belly counselled him.

In the particular is contained the universal.

But my body was like a harp and her words and gestures were like fingers running upon the wires.