His dream must have seemed so close that he could hardly fail to grasp it. He did not know that it was already behind him.

How different it all was from what you'd planned.

But with every word she was drawing further and further into herself, so he gave that up, and only the dead dream fought on as the afternoon slipped away, trying to touch what was no longer tangible, struggling unhappily, undespairingly, toward that lost voice across the room.

Every one suspects himself of at least one of the cardinal virtues.

I've got an adjective that just fits you.

Good manners are an admission that everybody is so tender that they have to be handled with gloves. Now, human respect—you don't call a man a coward or a liar lightly, but if you spend your life sparing people's feelings and feeding their vanity, you get so you can't distinguish what should be respected in them.

People living alone get used to loneliness.