“It formed into small drops on his weather beaten features, drops that rolled down his cheeks. Strangely, some of them tasted like salt.”

“A tear dropped from my cheek to his forehead. "Please don't die," I whispered.”

“But words are things, and a small drop of ink,      Falling like dew, upon a thought, produces That which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think;      ’T is strange, the shortest letter which man uses Instead of speech, may form a lasting link      Of ages; to what straits old Time reduces Frail man, when paper — even a rag like this, Survives himself, his tomb, and all that’s his.”

“The salt of his tears tastes like the sea and I don't see the shore.”

“He took down his drink as if it were a drop in the bottom of a glass.”

“The certain prospect of death could sweeten every life with a precious and fragrant drop of levity; and now you strange apothecary souls have turned it into an ill-tasting drop of poison that makes the whole of life repulsive.”