“God,” she cried, “what is love? Man seeking his own head? The human head, so rented by misery that even the teeth weigh! She couldn't tell me the truth because she had never planned it; her life was a continual accident, and how can you be prepared for that? Everything we can't bear in this world, some day we find in one person, and love it all at once.”

Sleep demands of us a guilty immunity.

The unendurable is the beginning of the curve of joy.

The night is a skin pulled over the head of day that the day may be in torment.

Our bones ache only while the flesh is on them.

New York is the meeting place of the peoples, the only city where you can hardly find a typical American.

I can draw and write, and you'd be foolish not to hire me.