The man's clothing was of the finest, and his linen most clean and delicate.
I had a queer feeling of regret that he should be dead--having wanted his life these many months and now possessing it.

Ah--those accomplished desires! They stalk through life behind us--an army of silent ghosts.
For months afterwards I missed him--incomprehensible though this may appear.

A good foe is a tonic to the heart.

Some of us are virtuous for the sake of our friends--others pay the tribute to their foes.
There was still plenty of work for us to do, though neither was in a state to execute it.

My left arm had stiffened right down to the fingers, which kept closing up despite my endeavours to keep life and movement in them.