But I had been in love pretty often and I didn't think it stood the wear and tear.
One can lie, but truth is more interesting.
The theatre is a gross art, built in sweeps and over-emphasis. Compromise is its second name.
The dangerous thing about hate is that it seems so reasonable.
It's not till sex has died out between a man and a woman that they can really love. And now I mean affection. Now I mean to be fond of (as one is fond of oneself) --to hope, to be disappointed, to live inside the other heart.
The Press blew, the public stared, hands flew out like a million little fishes after bread.