Why do gentlemen's voices carry so clearly, when women's are so easily stifled?

The bad blood rose in me, just like wine.

I wouldnt mind being a fly on the wall in a few Victorian parlours.

I knew that I couldn't lie beside her, without wanting to touch her. I couldn't have felt her breath come upon my mouth, without wanting to kiss her. And I couldn't have kissed her, without wanting to save her.

Your heart-as you call it-and hers are alike, after all: they are like mine, like everyone's. They resemble nothing so much as those meters you will find on gas-pipes: they only perk up and start pumping when you drop coins in.

I've given up reading the papers. Since the world's so obviously bent on killing itself, I decided months ago to sit back and let it.

I do love the past but wouldnt want to live in it.