You can still die when the sun is shining.

What is better than to sit at the end of the day and drink wine with friends, or substitutes for friends?

Her lips touched his brain as they touched his lips, as though they were a vehicle of some vague speech and between them he felt an unknown and timid preasure, darker than the swoon of sin, softer than sound or odor.

The object of the artist is the creation of the beautiful. What the beautiful is is another question.

To learn one must be humble. But life is the great teacher.

What birds were they? (...) He listened to the cries: like the squeak of mice be- hind the wainscot : a shrill twofold note. But the notes were long and shrill and whirring, unlike the cry of vermin, falling a third or a fourth and trilled as the flying beaks clove the air. Their cry was shrill and clear and fine and falling like threads of silken light unwound from whirring spools.

Christopher Columbus, as everyone knows, is honored by posterity because he was the last to discover America.