Think what stupid things the people must have done with their money who say they're 'happier without'.

I want to put my hand out and touch you. I want to do for you and care for you. I want to be there when you're sick and when you're lonesome.

I can't love you unless I give you up.

He had her in his arms, her face like a wet flower at his lips, and all their vain terrors shriveling up like ghosts at sunrise.

The real loneliness is living among all these kind people who only ask one to pretend!

Don't you ever mind," she asked suddenly, "not being rich enough to buy all the books you want?

One of the first obligations of art is to make all useful things beautiful.