He cooks his breakfast of rice and misoshiru and packs onigiri rice balls for his lunch.

Nothing beside remains. Round the decay Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare The lone and level sands stretch far away.

Houdini took his secrets to the grave, as he died shortly after performing one of his most famous escapes.

In a few moments we were whirling along the straight, white road between the interminable black vineyards, and past the dilapidated homesteads of the vine-folk and wayside cafes that are scattered about this unjoyous corner of France.