America is a willingness of the heart.
Americans, while occasionally willing to be serfs, have always been obstinate about being peasantry.
It appears that every man’s insomnia is as different from his neighbours as are their daytime hopes and aspirations.
I think that we already have a really good system in town, but I have a vision that it could be even better. My vision is that academic excellence is the area that we should pursue more, coupled with fiscal discipline.
He knew that when he kissed this girl, and forever wed his unutterable visions to her perishable breath, his mind would never romp again like the mind of God.
People talk of the courage of convictions, but in actual life a man’s duty to his family may make a rigid course seem a selfish indulgence of his own righteousness.
He’s so dumb he doesn’t know he’s alive.
He was so terrible that he was no longer terrible, only dehumanized.
Those days are over. I have to be won all over again every time you see me.
He’s sensitive and I don’t want him to break his heart over somebody who doesn’t care about him.
Tireless passion, fierce jealousy, longing to possess and crush-these alone were left of all his love for Rosalind; these remained to him as payment for the loss of his youth-bitter calomel under the thin sugar of love’s exaltation.
For the moment I can only cry out that I have lost my splendid mirage. Come back, come back, O glittering and white!
I am too much a moralist at heart, and really want to preach at people in some acceptable form, rather than entertain them.
He was handsome then if never before, bound for one of those immortal moments which come so radiantly that their remembered light is enough to see by for years.
Amory thought how it was only the past that seemed strange and unbelievable.
The helpless ecstasy of loosing himself in her charm was a powerful opiate rather than a tonic.
I hope something happens. I’m restless as the devil and have a horror of getting fat or falling in love and growing domestic.
There was never a good biography of a good novelist. There couldn’t be. He is too many people if he’s any good.
So when the blue smoke of brittle leaves was in the air and the wind blew the wet laundry stiff on the line I decided to come back home.
If he had to bring all the bitterness and hatred of the world into his heart, he was not going to be in love with her again.