If two people who love each other let a single instant wedge itself between them, it grows-it becomes a month, a year, a century; it becomes to late.

Death is the next step after the pension-it's perpetual retirement without pay.

Falsehood is the jockey of misfortune.

Their own kind of logic which cries for miracles and, on occasion.

The brave men die in war. It takes great luck or judgment not to be killed. Once‚ at least‚ the head has to bow and the knee has to bend to danger. The soldiers who march back under the triumphal arches are death's deserters.

I believe in the gods; or rather I believe that I believe in the gods. But I don't believe that they are great brooding presences watching over us; I believe they are completely absent minded.

There are truths which can kill a nation.