Later it took the heads of a king and queen and the blood of a hundred thousand people.' He sat down, and stretched his plump, white-clad legs towards the fire.
Through the blackened shreds of the English papers the red glow beat upwards upon the beautiful, pallid, sphinx-like face--the face of a poet, of a philosopher--of anything rather than of a ruthless and ambitious soldier.

I have heard folk remark that no two portraits of the Emperor are alike, and the fault does not lie with the artists but with the fact that every varying mood made him a different man.

But in his prime, before his features became heavy, I, who have seen sixty years of mankind, can say that in repose I have never looked upon a more beautiful face.
'You have no dreams and no illusions, Talleyrand,' said he.

'You are always practical, cold, and cynical.

But with me, when I am in the twilight, as now, or when I hear the sound of the sea, my imagination begins to work.