She hardly ever thought of him. He had worn a place for himself in some corner of her heart, as a sea shell, always boring against the rock, might do. The making of the place had been her pain. But now the shell was safely in the rock. It was lodged, and ground no longer.

The destiny of man is to unite, not to divide.

Might does not make right! Right makes right!

The best thing for being sad ... is to learn something.

Wars are never fought for one reason," he said. "They are fought for dozens of reasons, in a muddle.

Now, in their love, which was stronger, there were the seeds of hatred and fear and confusion growing at the same time: for love can exist with hatred, each preying on the other, and this is what gives it its greatest fury.

Cavall came simply, and gave him his heart and soul.