...I think he revalued everything in his house according to the measure of response it drew from her well-loved eyes.

You're a slave, a bound helpless slave to one thing in the world, your imagination.

The two basic stories of all times are Cinderella and Jack the Giant Killer-the charm of women and the courage of men.

I may turn out an intellectual, but I'll never write anything but mediocre poetry.

Joan Crawford is doubtless the best example of the flapper, the girl you see in smart night clubs, gowned to the apex of sophistication, toying iced glasses with a remote, faintly bitter expression, dancing deliciously, laughing a great deal, with wide, hurt eyes. Young things with a talent for living.

The first lights of the evening were springing into pale existence. The Ferris wheel, pricked out now in lights, revolved leisurely through the dusk; a few empty cars of the roller coaster rattled overhead.

I felt that I wanted the world to be in uniform and at a sort of moral attention forever; I wanted no more riotous excursions with privileged glimpses into the human heart.