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rumor had it, allow himself a night out in the arms of a nymphet he had christened “Madame Bovary,” even though her name was Hortense and she limited her reading to twenty-franc notes.
Humans aren’t descended from monkeys. They come from parrots.”
It was a well-known fact that the richness of buttery foods led to moral ruin and confusion of the intellect.
like a curse dressed in Sunday best.
And I fancy that woman more than peaches in syrup.
“Making money isn’t hard in itself,” he complained. “What’s hard is to earn it doing something worth devoting one’s life to.”
Bea says that the art of reading is slowly dying, that it’s an intimate ritual, that a book is a mirror that offers us only what we already carry inside us, that when we read, we do it with all our heart and mind, and great readers are becoming more scarce by the day.
there is still a commemorative plaque in honor of Fumero in the basement of Central Police Headquarters on Vía Layetana, but a new soft-drinks machine covers it entirely.
