Cease, Cows, Life Is Short.

More Than Mother And Son, They Were Accomplices In Solitude.

He Shook My Hand And Said Goodbye With A Sentence That Might Have Been Either Good Advice Or A Threat: "take Good Care Of Yourself.

I Would Like For My Books To Have Been Recognized Posthumously, At Least In Capitalist Countries, Where They Turn You Into A Kind Of Merchandise.

When He Went Through The Kitchen He Kissed Rebeca On The Forehead. "get Those Bad Thoughts Out Of Your Head," He Told Her. "you're Going To Be Happy.

How Strange Women Are.