Art isn’t meaningless... It is in itself. It isn’t in that it tries to make life less so.
A classic,′ suggested Anthony, ’is a successful book that has survived the reaction of the next period or generation. Then it’s safe, like a style in architecture or furniture. It’s acquired a picturesque dignity to take the place of its fashion.
At the enchanted metropolitan twilight I felt a haunting loneliness sometimes, and felt it in others – poor young clerks who loitered in front of windows waiting until it was time for a solitary restaurant dinner – young clerks in the dusk, wasting the most poignant moments of night and life.
And in the end, we were all just humans... drunk on the idea that love, only love, could heal our brokenness.
His hand took hold of hers, and as she said something low in his ear he turned toward her with a rush of emotion. I think that voice held him most, with its fluctuating, feverish warmth, because it couldn’t be over-dreamed – that voice was a deathless song.
Beauty and love pass, I know... Oh, there’s sadness, too. I suppose all great happiness is a little sad. Beauty means the scent of roses and then the death of roses-.
Let us learn to show our friendship for a man when he is alive and not after he is dead,” he suggested. “After that my own rule is to let everything alone.
As for Tom, the fact that he “had some woman in New York” was really less surprising than that he had been depressed by a book. Something was making him nibble at the edge of stale ideas as if his sturdy physical egotism no longer nourished his peremptory heart.
I don’t like girls in the daytime,′ he said shortly, and then thinking this a bit abrupt, he added: ‘But I like you.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I like you first and second and third.
The bar is in full swing, and floating rounds of cocktails permeate the garden outside, until the air is alivewith chatter and laughter, and casual innuendo and introductions forgotten on the spot, and enthusiastic meetings between women who never knew each other’s names.
The fire blazing in her dark and injured heart seemed to glow around her like a flame.
Then he kissed her. At his lips’ touch she blossomed for him like a flower and the incarnation was complete.
In the morning you were never violently sorry – you made no resolutions, but if you had overdone it and your heart was slightly out of order, you went on the wagon for a few days without saying anything about it, and waited until an accumulation of nervous boredom projected you into another party.
Amory wondered how people could fail to notice that he was a boy marked for glory, and when faces of the throng turned toward him and ambiguous eyes stared into his, he assumed the most romantic of expressions and walked on the air cushions that lie on the asphalts of fourteen...
This is all. It’s been very rare to have known you, very strange and wonderful. But this wouldn’t do – and wouldn’t last.
The sheath that held her soul had assumed significance – that was all. She was a sun, radiant, growing, gathering light and storing it – then after an eternity pouring it forth in a glance, the fragment of a sentence, to that part of him that cherished all beauty and all illusion.
There is no confusion like the confusion of a simple mind...
I want to do everything in the world with you.
I don’t give a damn about you now, but it was a new experience for me and I felt a little dizzy for a while.
Her voice is full of money.