My God,' he gasped, 'you're fun to kiss.

that voice was a deathless song.

Young people do not perceive at once that the giver of wounds is the enemy and the quoted tattle merely the arrow.

I was thirty. Before me stretched the portentous, menacing road of a new decade.

For years afterwards when Amory thought of Eleanor he seemed still to hear the wind sobbing around him and sending little chills into the places beside his heart. The night when they rode up the slope and watched the cold moon float through the clouds, he lost a further part of him that nothing could restore; and when he lost it he lost also the power of regretting it.

She admired him; she was used to clutching her hands together in his wake and heaving audible sighs.

You can’t repeat the past.” “Can’t repeat the past?” he cried incredulously. “Why of course you can!