Killing is like riding, you see. One never really loses the knack.
None of us can choose where we shall love.
I have often thought I would have been quite happy as a spider.Even a spider has the right to a mate.
Memories are like fireflies darting across the surface of my mind, showing me here and there images so sharp and vivid that I catch my breath in wonder before the vignette disappears, sinking like a pebble into the quicksand of regret and recrimination.
All beauty must have its imperfections, all happiness its share of sorrow.
And it's really very difficult to kill someone when all your inner instincts would oblige you to take off your hat first!