Our thoughts were frosty mist along the eaves; our two ghosts kissed, high on the long, mazed wires – eerie half-laughter echoes here and leaves only a fatuous sigh for young desires; regret has followed after things she loved, leaving the great husk.
Es inevitablemente triste mirar con nuevos ojos cosas a las que ya hemos aplicado nuestra propia capacidad de enfoque.
A full moon drenched the road to the lustreless color of platinum, and late-blooming harvest flowers breathed into the motionless air aromas that were like low, half-heard laughter.
When I meet a man that doesn’t bore me to death after two weeks, perhaps it’ll be different.
Gatsby bought that house so that Daisy would be just across the bay.
The rain was still falling, but the darkness had parted in the west, and there was a pink and golden billow of foamy clouds above the sea. “Look at that,” she whispered, and then after a moment: “I’d like to just get one of those pink clouds and put you in it and push you around.
I’m yours – you know it.
Blind with enchantment, he felt that life was just beginning.
But the brilliance, the versatility of madness is akin to the resourcefulness of water seeping through, over, and around a dike.
She looked up at him as he took a step toward the door; she looked at him without the slightest idea as to what was in his head, she saw him take another step in slow motion, turn and look at her again, and she wanted for a moment to hold him and devour him, wanted his mouth, his ears, his coat collar, wanted to surround him and engulf him.
For a full minute, our bowels were one with the bowels of the earth – like some nightmare attempt to attach our naval cords again and jerk us back to the womb of creation.” -Cecelia Brady describing the earthquake.
No one believed it. You had only to look at Benjamin and see.
So, for the shoddiness of needs, are shoes made out of last year’s hide.
Then the door opened and she came into the room – and it was as though everything in it suddenly blurred before his eyes. He had not remembered how beautiful she was, and he felt his face grow pale and his voice diminish to a poor sigh in his throat.
Still – so many of the important times in life begin by seeming incidental.
And like most intellectuals who don’t find faith convenient,” he continued coldly, “like Napoleon and Oscar Wilde and the rest of your type, you’ll yell loudly for a priest on your death-bed.
She won’t marry him, but a girl doesn’t have to marry a man to break his heart.
He stared at her, and the impression of her beauty grew until, uncommitted by a word, by even a formal introduction, he felt himself going out toward her, watching the turn of her lips and the shifting of her cheeks when she smiled.
Oh, nothing – only I want sentiment, real sentiment – and I never find it.
All of them began to laugh spontaneously because they knew it was still last night while the people in the streets had the delusion that it was bright hot morning.