The past was but the cemetery of our illusions: one simply stubbed one's toes on the gravestones.

“On a pitch black, starless night, a solitary man was trudging along the main ro…”

“Monsieur Josserand died very quietly - a victim of his own honesty. He had live…”

“These young people naturally grow up with ideas different from ours, for they a…”

“The whole of Paris was lit up. The tiny dancing flames had bespangled the sea o…”