It’s just a crazy old thing. I just slip it on sometimes when I don’t care what I look like.
The shadow of a tree fell abruptly across the dew and ghostly birds began to sing among the blue leaves.
Sacrifice by its very nature was arrogant and impersonal; sacrifice should be eternally supercilious. Weep not for me but for thy children.
You see, I am fate,” it shouted, “and stronger than your puny plans; and I am how-things-turn-out and I am different from your little dreams, and I am the flight of time and the end of beauty and unfulfilled desire; all the accidents and imperceptions and the little minutes that shape the crucial hours are mine. I am the exception that proves no rules, the limits of your control, the condiment in the dish of life.
I never care what I do, so I always have a good time.
The doctors told me’ – her voice sang on a confidential note – ’that if any man alive had done the consistent drinking that I have, he would have been physically shattered, my dead, and in his grave – long in his grave.
It’s just us. We’re pitiful, that’s all. The very qualities I love you for are the ones that will always make you a failure.
This was untrue. I am not even faintly like a rose. She was only extemporizing, but a stirring warmth flowed from her, as if her heart was trying to come out to you concealed in one of those breathless, thrilling words.
Our specialty is stories about little girls who break their spines and get adopted by grouchy old men because they smile so much. You’d think we were a race of cheerful cripples and that the common end of the Russian peasant was suicide – ” “Six.
They had forgotten – as people inevitably forget.
Fine dives have been made from flimsier spring-boards.
Lover! Lover! I can’t do with you, and I can’t imagine life without you.
I’ve just finished a book of his, ‘The Picture of Dorian Gray,’ and I certainly wish you’d read it. You’d like.
He hadn’t once ceased looking at Daisy and I think he revalued everything in his house according to the measure of response it drew from her well-loved eyes.
There was only one fly in the delicious ointment.
You know I’m old in some ways – in others – well, I’m just a little girl. I like sunshine and pretty things and cheerfulness – and I dread responsibility. I don’t want to think about pots and kitchens and brooms. I want to worry whether my legs will get slick and brown when I swim in the summer.
And his mind strong and subtle like the mind of Cuchulin.
Why are all the exciting things so uncomfortable.
It was a matter of chance that I should have rented a house in one of the strangest communities in North America. It was on that slender riotous island which extends itself due east of New York – and where there are, among other natural curiosities, two unusual formations of land.
None of the Victorian mothers – and most of the mothers were Victorian – had any idea how casually their daughters were accustomed to be kissed.