I shall not die of a cold. I shall die of having lived.

I shall not die of a cold. I shall die of having lived.

You should not be discouraged; one doe not die of a cold," the priest said to the bishop. The old man smiled. "I shall not die of a cold, my son. I shall die of having lived.

Sometimes I wonder why God ever trusts talent in the hands of women, they usually make such an infernal mess of it. I think He must do it as a sort of ghastly joke.

The stupid believe that to be truthful is easy; only the artist, the great artist, knows how difficult it is.

Oh, he’s an old friend from the West,” said Eden easily. “I won’t introduce you, because he doesn’t like people. He’s a recluse. Good-bye.