If you would not be forgotten as soon as you are gone, either write things worth reading or do things worth writing.
Her face felt like it was scattered in pieces and she could not keep it straight. The feeling was a whole lot worse than being hungry for any dinner, yet it was like that. I want – I want – I want – was all that she could think about – but just what this real want was she did no know.
Jake had begun to carry chalk in his pockets, also. He wrote brief sentences. He tried to word them so that a man would think.
That was all he wanted for himself – to give to her. Biff’s mouth hardened. He had done nothing wrong but in him he felt a strange guilt. Why? The dark guilt in all men, unreckoned and without a name.
He was like a man who had served a term in prison or had been to Harvard College or had lived for a long time with foreigners in South America.