Misfortune had made Lily supple instead of hardening her, and a pliable substance is less easy to break than a stiff one.

It was the old New York way...the way people who dreaded scandal more than disease, who placed decency above courage, and who considered that nothing was more ill-bred than "scenes", except those who gave rise to them.

The early mist had vanished and the fields lay like a silver shield under the sun. It was one of the days when the glitter of winter shines through a pale haze of spring.

Inkstands and tea-cups are never as full as when one upsets them.

A New York divorce is in itself a diploma of virtue.

Life is the saddest thing there is, next to death.

She wondered if, when human souls try to get too near each other, they do not inevitably become mere blurs to each other's vision.