Life's just a perpetual piecing together of broken bits.

... there are spines to which the immobility of worship is not a strain.

He had known the love that is fed on caresses and feeds them; but this passion that was closer than his bones was not to be superficially satisfied.

I think I like 'em better like that...divinely dull...just the quiet bearers of their own beauty, like the priestesses in a Panathenaic procession.

Nothing is more perplexing to a man than the mental process of a woman who reasons her emotions.

The American landscape has no foreground and the American mind no background.

The turnings of life seldon show a sign-post; or rather, though the sign is always there, it is usually placed some distance back, like the notices that give warning of a bad hill or a level railway-crossing.