So she sat down to morning tea, like any other old lady with a high nose, thin cheeks, a ring on her finger and the usual trappings of rather shabby but gallant old age...

“standing, as now, lean as a knife”

“I can only note that the past is beautiful because one never realises an emotio…”

“Dünya, kamçısını kaldırdı işte; bakalım nereye indirecek?”

“It was a splendid mind. For if thought is like the keyboard of apiano, divided …”