The Pretty Lady's brains were almost entirely in her fingers.

lips all crude scarlet, and eyes as absurdly big and round as a child's good-by kiss.

Supplementing the far, remote Glory-of-God expression in his face, the glory-of-doughnuts shone suddenly very warmly.

One was a Cartoon Artist with a heart like chiffon and a wit as accidentally malicious as the jab of a pin in a flirt's belt.

Truth out of season was sourer than strawberries at Christmas time.

I have a theory that no child ever does outgrow its ungratified legitimate desires; though subsequent maturity may bring him to the point where his original desire has reached such astounding proportions that the original object can no longer possibly appease it.

the time to grant anybody a favor is the day the favor is asked, for that day is the one psychological moment of the world when supply and demand are keyed exacty to each other's limits, and can be mated beatifically to grow old, or die young, together. But after that day -- !