I rose by sheer military ability to the rank of corporal.

On Friday noon, July the twentieth, 1714, the finest bridge in all Peru broke and precipitated five travelers into the gulf below.

He regarded love as a sort of cruel malady through which the elect are required to pass in their late youth and from which they emerge, pale and wrung, but ready for the business of living.

I not only bow to the inevitable; I am fortified by it.

On the stage it is always now; the personages are standing on that razor-edge, between the past and the future, which is the essential character of conscious being.

There is a land of the living and a land of the dead and the bridge is love, the only survival, the only meaning.

Favors cease to be favors when there are conditions attached to them.