Ghosts were created when the first man awoke in the night.
Our heroine knew that the mother would always leave the window open for her children to fly back by; so they stayed away for years and had a lovely time.
I taught you to fight and to fly. What more could there be?
It is very well to be able to write a book, but can you waggle your ears?
May God blast anyone who writes a biography of me.
The best of our fiction is by novelists who allow that it is as good as they can give, and the worst by novelists who maintain that they could do much better if only the public would let them.