No amount of fire or freshness can challenge what a man will store up in his ghostly heart.

I let him run on, this papier-maché Mephistopheles, and it seemed to me that if I tried I could poke my forefinger through him, and would find nothing inside but a little loose dirt, maybe.

As they walked, it seemed almost every building had some similar contrivance as decoration, adorning the street in a cacophony of clangs, bangs and whirs. The street’s surroundings danced with steam and smoke, the scent of oil and grease its perfume.

Always willing to lend a helping hand to the one above him.

It is in the thirties that we want friends. In the forties we know they won't save us any more than love did.

Genius is the ability to put into effect what is on your mind.