Everything belonged to him--but that was a trifle. The thing to know was what he belonged to, how many powers of darkness claimed him for their own.
Joseph ConradWe looked at the venerable stream not in the vivid flush of a short day that comes and departs forever, but in the august light of abiding memories.
Joseph ConradI let him run on, this papier-maché Mephistopheles, and it seemed to me that if I tried I could poke my forefinger through him, and would find nothing inside but a little loose dirt, maybe.
Joseph Conrad