Look at that moon. Potato weather for sure.
The stuff of which masterpieces are made drifts about the world waiting to be clothed in words.
[Camila] was quite incapable of establishing any harmony between the claims of her art, of her appetites, or her dreams, and of her crowded daily routine. Each of these was a world in itself.
Life is an unbroken succession of false situations.
Nature reserves the right to inflict upon her children the most terrifying jests.
Some say that we shall never know, and that to the gods we are like the flies that the boys kill on a summer's day, and some say, to the contrary, that the very sparrows do not lose a feather that has not been brushed away by the finger of God.