It’s true that a child belongs to its father. But when a fat…

It’s true that a child belongs to its father. But when a father beats his child, it seeks sympathy in its mother’s hut. A man belongs to his fatherland when things are good and life is sweet. But when there is sorrow and bitterness he finds reference in his motherland. Your mother is there to protect you. She is buried there. And that is why we say that mother is supreme.

Locked. They’ve gone . . . They’ve forgotten about me . . ….

Locked. They’ve gone . . . They’ve forgotten about me . . . It doesn’t matter . . . I’ll sit here a moment . . . Life has gone by as if I hadn’t lived. I’ll lie down a moment . . . You’ve got no strength, nothing is left, nothing . . . Oh you . . . big booby! . . .

The devil knows what I would have given for a genuine, ordin…

The devil knows what I would have given for a genuine, ordinary quarrel, a decent one, a more literary one, so to speak. But I’d been treated as if I were a fly. [He] was about six feet tall, while I’m small and scrawny. The quarrel, however, was in my hands; all I had to do was protest, and of course they would have thrown me out the window. But I reconsidered and preferred . . . to withdraw resentfully.