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.

Why do birds sing in the morning? It's the triumphant shout: 'We got through another night!'

You will be old-fashioned one day. It's more shocking than getting old.

A father is always making his baby into a little woman. And when she is a woman he turns her back again.

In marriage there are no manners to keep up, and beneath the wildest accusations no real criticism. Each is familiar with that ancient child in the other who may erupt again. We are not ridiculous to ourselves. We are ageless. That is the luxury of the wedding ring.

After forty years of marriage we still stood with broken swords in our hands.