The taste of the usual was like cinders in his mouth, and there were moments when he felt as if he were being buried alive under his future.
Edith WhartonThrough this atmosphere of torrid splendor moved wan beings as richly upholstered as the furniture, beings without definite pursuits or permanent relations, who drifted on a languid tide of curiosity... Somewhere behind them, in the background of their lives there was doubtless a real past, yet they had no more real existence than the poet's shades in limbo.
Edith WhartonI have never known a novel that was good enough to be good in spite of its being adapted to the author's political views.
Edith WhartonMrs. Ballinger is one of the ladies who pursue Culture in bands, as though it were dangerous to meet it alone.
Edith Wharton