Quickly my literal faith in God unraveled. My faith in the Church as a community, however, continued

Quickly my literal faith in God unraveled. My faith in the Church as a community, however, continued. People from my grandparents' church helped us through the difficult time: they visited our house frequently to make sure we had enough food while my depressed mother spent most of her days in bed. Once she was back on her feet and began to work double shifts to support us, they often invited me to their homes for dinner, so that I wouldn't be alone for too long with sad thoughts in my head.

...

I wondered if marriage to ordinary people was what religion was like to me after my father's departure: a companionship they abided by, out of habit and loyalty, which, even after the absolute faith and passion had long gone, would continue to offer support and consolation. A constant that was satisfactory, if not thrilling. Not a bad thing at all to live by, I used to think.

M. Lee, 8 lives of a century-old trickster (2023), 162-3

He had the unmistakable look of a man about to be present at a row between two women

Mt Pett, meanwhile, had been trailing in the rear with a hunted expression on his face. He had the unmistakable look of a man about to be present at a row between two women, and only a wet cat in a strange back yard bears itself with less jauntiness than a man faced by such a prospect. A millionaire several times over, Mr Pett would have cheerfully given much of his wealth to have been elsewhere at that moment.

P.G Wodehouse, Piccadilly Jim (1918), 57 

Women say this sort of thing carelessly, with no wish to wound; but that makes it none the less hard to bear

'Oh, I am glad you have begun to take an interest in cricket. It is simply a social necessity in England. Why you ever made such a fuss about taking it up I can't think. You used to be so fond of watching baseball, and cricket is just the same thing.'

A close observer would have marked a deepening of the look of pain on Mr Crocker's face. Women say this sort of thing carelessly, with no wish to wound; but that makes it none the less hard to bear. 

P.G Wodehouse, Piccadilly Jim (1918), 39-40

True to the most basic of German instincts ... I was drawn to Italy

True to the most basic of German instincts and thus following in the footsteps of the Teutons, Hohenstaufen emperors, and Deutschromer art worshippers, I was drawn to Italy, my ultimate destination being Palermo, where I had felt so at home in my childhood dreams as a squire or falconer for Frederick II and a member of Konradin's retinue when the Staufers went under.

G. Grass, Peeling the onion (2006), tr. M.H. Heim (2007), 314

Ulrich von Hutten was my idol, the Pope and his clerics my enemies

I tried to work up the requisite hatred for the reputed blue-bloods, but in fact I was torn. From the period of my mental excursions into the dark corners - and enlightened ones - of German history I had retained my admiration for the Hohenstaufen line of Emperors; I would have been only too happy to serve as a squire to Frederick II in thirteenth-century Palermo. And when it came to the Peasant Wars  a few centuries later, I was not only a fan of Thomas Muntzer's, I also sided with the upper-class ringleaders of the insurrection, men with noble names like Franz von Sickingen, Georg von Frundsberg, and Gorz von Berlichingen. Ulrich von Hutten was my idol, the Pope and his clerics my enemies. 

G. Grass, Peeling the onion (2006), tr. M.H. Heim (2007), 90-91

He ran his business like it was a plot

He ran his business like it was a plot, people used to say. Khalifa thought of him as the pirate, nothing was too small for him: smuggling, moneylending , hoarding whatever was scarce as well as the usual stuff, importing this and that.

A. Gurneh, Afterlives (2020), 9

The Venetians used to say that whenever the Golden Horses were moved, an empire fell

There they are now, out of the sun at last. Through the door of their last resting-place you may see their forms, proud as ever, silhouetted against the half-light from the windows. Their hoofs are raised, as always, in a noble gesture of greeting, companionship or compassion. Their heads are turned still, fraternally towards each other. But the life has gone out of them at last, as the power and purpose have left Venice. The Venetians used to say that whenever the Golden Horses were moved, an empire fell – the Byzantine Empire in 1204, the Venetian Empire in 1797, the Napoleonic Empire in 1815, the Kaiser’s Empire in 1918,Hitler’s Empire in 1945. This their last move, though, is no more than an obituary gesture, a long farewell, a recognition that the glory of Venice has gone, and only the forms remain.

J. Morris, The Venetian Empire (1980), 187