Мартовские иды. Мост короля Людовика Святого

But the life that Esteban was leading had been full enough for him. There was no room in his imagination for a new loyalty, not because his heart was less large than Manuel's, but because it was of a simpler texture.

It was not the first time that Manuel had been fascinated by a woman... but it was the first time that his will and imagination had been thus overwhelmed. He had lost that privilege of simple natures, the dissociation of love and pleasure. Pleasure was no longer as simple as eating; it was being complicated by love.

And rising one day at dawn she had made a rapid journey through her hospital and convent and orphanage, looking for a soul she might train to be her successor. She hurried from empty face to empty face, occasionally pausing more from hope than conviction.

Anyone else would have said to himself with secret joy: "Within then minutes myself!..." But it was another thought that visited Brother Juniper: "Why did this happen to those five?"

Brother Juniper found that there was least to be learned from those who had been most closely associated with the subjects of his inquiry.

The discrepancy between faith and facts is greater than is generally assumed.

He added up the total for victims and compared it with the total for survivors, to discover that the dead were five times more worth saving.

"Oh, if we could go away to some island where the people would know you for yourself. And love you."
"You are fifty years old and you are still dreaming of such islands, Uncle Pio."

He divided the inhabitants of this world into tow groups, into those who had loved and those who had not. It was a horrible aristocracy, apparently, for those who had no capacity for love (or rather for suffering in love) could not be said to be alive, and certainly would not live again after their death.

a boredom so persuasive that it was like pain - he woke up with it and spent the day with it, and it sat by his bed all night watching his sleep.