Everything about her was warm and soft and scented; even the stains of her grief became her as raindrops do the beaten rose.

I don't believe in God, but I do believe in His saints.

[B]ut he had lived in a world in which, as he said, no one who loved ideas need hunger mentally.

There is too much sour grapes for my taste in the present American attitude. The time to denounce the bankers was when we were all feeding off their gold plate; not now! At present they have not only my sympathy but my preference. They are the last representatives of our native industries.

The very good people didn't convince me; I felt they'd never been tempted. But you knew; you understood; you had felt the world outside tugging at one with all its golden hands — and yet you hated the things it asks of one; you hated happiness bought by disloyalty and cruelty and indifference.

But marriage is one long sacrifice.... Chapter 21, Medora Manson speaking to Newland Archer

The effect produced by a short story depends almost entirely on its form.