Only he who is without anything is without enemies.

There remained the sea, which is free to all, and particularly alluring to those who feel themselves at war with humanity.

Do you know, André, I sometimes think that you have no heart.' 'Presumably because I sometimes betray intelligence.

It came to Mr. Blood, as he trudged forward under the laden apple-trees on that fragrant, delicious July morning, that man—as he had long suspected—was the vilest work of God, and that only a fool would set himself up as a healer of a species that was best exterminated.

He was suffering from the loss of an illusion.

Thirstily he set it to his lips, and as its cool refreshment began to soothe his throat, he thanked Heaven that in a world of much evil there was still so good a thing as ale.

But they were fated to misunderstand each other.