The eye was in the tomb and stared at Cain. - Victor Hugo

Et la marine va, papa, venir à Malte.

Love is like a tree: it shoots of itself; it strikes it's roots deeply into our whole being, and frequently continues to put forth green leaves over a heart in ruins. And there is this unaccountable circumstance attending it, that the blinder the passion the more tenacious it is. Never is it stronger than when it is most unreasonable.

When a man understands the art of seeing, he can trace the spirit of an age and the features of a king even in the knocker on a door.