She smiled, a moving childish smile that was like all the lost youth in the world.
No amount of fire or freshness can challenge what a man will store up in his ghostly heart.
If I knew words enough, I could write the longest love letter in the world and never get tired.
I love New York on summer afternoons when everyone’s away. There’s something very sensuous about it – overripe, as if all sorts of funny fruits were going to fall into your hands.
I felt that I wanted the world to be in uniform and at a sort of moral attention forever; I wanted no more riotous excursions with privileged glimpses into the human heart.
So we’ll just let things take their course, and never be sorry.
The exhilarating ripple of her voice was a wild tonic in the rain.
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.
What people are ashamed of usually makes a good story.
You’re a slave, a bound helpless slave to one thing in this world, your imagination.
It seemed that the only lover she had ever wanted was a lover in a dream.
Life is much more successfully looked at from a single window.
Well, you never knew exactly how much space you occupied in people’s lives. Yet from this fog his affection emerged – the best contacts are when one knows the obstacles and still wants to preserve a relation.
I want to know you moved and breathed in the same world with me.
I was within and without. Simultaneously enchanted and repelled by the inexhaustible variety of life.
Rosemary felt that this swim would become the typical one of her life, the one that would always pop up in her memory at the mention of swimming.
I never noticed the stars before. I always thought of them as great big diamonds that belonged to some one. Now they frighten me. They make me feel that it was all a dream, all my youth.
How the unforgettable faces of dusk would blend to her, the myriad footsteps, a thousand overtures, would blend to her footsteps; and there would be more drunkenness than wine in the softness of her eyes on his.
An artist is someone who can hold two opposing viewpoints and still remain fully functional.
The test of a first-rate intelligence is the ability to hold two opposed ideas in mind at the same time and still retain the ability to function.