You never find an Englishman among the under-dogs except in England, of course.
We are American at puberty. We die French.
Words should be an intense pleasure just as leather should be to a shoemaker.
...she had regained what I thought she had lost forever, the magical sadness which had drawn me to her, the thwarted look that had seemed to say, "Surely I was made for some other purpose than this?
I can't bare you when you're not amusing.
O God, make me good, but not yet.