It was good, really, that this external world still existed, if only as a place of refuge.

How quickly the apparently solidly laid foundation of one's existence could crumble.

...talent means nothing, while experience, acquired in humility and with hard work, means everything.

With one glance he had got himself trapped in the brown fundament of her eyes, he was in danger of sinking, as if into a soft, brown swamp, and he had to close his own eyes for a second to get out of it.

Not a visible enthusiasm but a hidden one, an excitement burning with a cold flame.

He was not bound. No one led him by the arm. He got out of the carriage as if he were a free man.

He who ruled scent ruled the hearts of men.