Autores:
  • He couldn't tell that this was one of those occasions a man never forgets: a small cicatrice had been made on the memory, a wound that would ache whenever certain things combined - the taste of gin at mid-day, the smell of flowers under a balcony, the clang of corrugated iron, an ugly bird flopping from perch to perch.

    Graham Greene, Henry J. Donaghy (1992). “Conversations with Graham Greene”, p.71, Univ. Press of Mississippi