You know, you’re a little complicated after all.” “Oh no,” she assured him hastily. “No, I’m not really - I’m just a - I’m just a whole lot of different simple people.

They were smiling at each other as if this was the beginning of the world.

Every author ought to write every book as if he were going to be beheaded the day he finished it.

Then it had not been merely the stars to which he had aspired on that June night. He came alive to me, delivered suddenly from the womb of his purposeless splendour.

I am tired of knowing nothing and being reminded of it all the time.

There is a moment—Oh, just before the first kiss, a whispered word—something that makes it worth while.

Have a drink Tom and then you won't feel so foolish to yourself.