France is great because she is France.
The owl goes not into the nest of the lark.
Large, heavy, ragged black clouds hung like crape hammocks beneath the starry cope of the night. You would have said that they were the cobwebs of the firmament.
Nothing makes a man so adventurous as an empty pocket.
Civilization survives on the constant discovery of amity and an equal supply of damnation.
where would the shout of love begin, if not from the summit of sacrifice?