Character: Arthur Huntingdon

The explosion of anger sometimes clears the air, and the inexplicable tears that touch the heart, but only occasionally. If you turn both in the habit, or rather no way to ruin your own beauty and to bore your friends.

- But love I can't. What is there to love? He's not capable of loving me, and you, too. He doesn't understand a word you do not feel the slightest gratitude for all that you do for him. Wait until he learns to Express some affection for me, and then I will decide to love him or not. But now it's just a little selfish sensualist. If you find something amazing, it's your business. I just don't understand how it is you manage.
Don't be selfish yourself, Arthur, you might have seen things differently!
- Perhaps my love. But that is what it is, and there's nothing you can do about it.

If I sometimes allow myself to look at the other, you have nothing to complain about: it's just an instant flash of lightning, while my love for you burns evenly and lasts forever, like the sun.

Piety, in my opinion, gives a special charm, but they, like all good must not be abused.

I like to enjoy life in all its fullness, not the slaves of any one addiction.

Demon wine, the black is almost equal to the demon game and get rid of it as hard - especially when good friends are trying to help you quench an unquenchable thirst.

Man can live without money as much fun as a turtle without a head or a bee with no abdomen!

If we are to spend money, so for them to get joy off.

I do see that he who drinks half their days suffering, and the other half mad.