I’ve been drunk for about a week now, and I thought it might sober me up to sit in a library.
Don’t forget who you are and where you come from.
Boredom is not an end-product, is comparatively rather an early stage in life and art. You’ve got to go by or past or through boredom, as through a filter, before the clear product emerges.
I am tired of knowing nothing and being reminded of it all the time.
I was enjoying myself now. I had taken two finger bowls of champagne and the scene had changed before my eyes into something significant, elemental and profound.
At eighteen our convictions are hills from which we look; at forty-five they are caves in which we hide.
She confused him and hindered the flow of his ideas. Self-expression had never seemed at once so desirable and so impossible.
The lights grow brighter as the earth lurches away from the sun.
You are the loveliest thing that I have ever known.
Here’s to alcohol, the rose colored glasses of life.
I can’t exactly describe how I feel but it’s not quite right. And it leaves me cold.
New York had all the iridescence of the beginning of the world. The returning troops marched up Fifth Avenue and girls were instinctively drawn East and North toward them – this was the greatest nation and there was gala in the air.
I didn’t realize it, but the days came along one after another, and then two years were gone, and everything was gone, and I was gone.
First you take a drink, then the drink takes a drink, then the drink takes you.
And so with the sunshine and the great bursts of leaves growing on the trees, just as things grow in fast movies, I had that familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer.
When a girl feels that she’s perfectly groomed and dressed she can forget that part of her. That’s charm.
That familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer.
Was it the infinite sadness of her eyes that drew him or the mirror of himself that he found in the gorgeous clarity of her mind?
Family quarrels are bitter things. They don’t go according to any rules. They’re not like aches or wounds, they’re more like splits in the skin that won’t heal because there’s not enough material.
It is sadder to find the past again and find it inadequate to the present than it is to have it elude you and remain forever a harmonious conception of memory.