But questioning does not mean the end of loving, and loving does not mean the abnegation of intelligence

why haven't we seventy lives? One is no use.

The greatest mercy, I have often thought, of the Mediterranean coast lies in its mosquitoes. Did we not suffer from their unwelcome attention, we could not bear our holidays to end.

If we haven't a grouch against Fortune, we seem unable to avoid one against ourselves.

I am fierce for work. Without work I am nothing.

Is this the final treachery of time, that the old become a burden upon the young?

Most gay, conversational, careless, lovely city ... where one drinks golden Tokay until one feels most beautiful, and warm and loved - oh, Budapesth!