You can't fake it. Bad writing is a gift.

We are all treading the vanishing road of a song in the air, the vanishing road of the spring flowers and the winter snows, the vanishing roads of the winds and the streams, the vanishing road of beloved faces.

If Romeo and Juliet make a tragedy of it nowadays, they have only to blame their own mismanagement, for the world is with them as it has never been before, and all sensible fathers and mothers know it.

Races and nations are thus ever ready to believe the worst of one another.

All wines are by their very nature full of reminiscence, the golden tears and red blood of summers that are gone.

The beauty we love is very silent. It smiles softly to itself, but never speaks.

On the contrary, woman is the best equipped fighting machine that ever went to battle.