The sky broke like an egg into full sunset and the water caught fire.
We demand that people should be true to the pictures we have of them, no matter how repulsive those pictures may be: we prefer the true portrait in all its homogeneity, to one with a detail added which refuses to fit in.
Be fond of the man who jests at his scars, if you like; but never believe he is being on the level with you.
I hated the bangs in the war: I always felt a silent war would be more tolerable.
Sainthood is acceptable only in saints.