We haven’t met for many years, said Daisy, her voice as matter-of-fact as it could ever be. "Five years next November." The automatic quality set us all back at least another minute.

Life plays the same lovely and agonizing joke on all of us.

They always believe that 'things are in a bad way now,' but they 'haven't any faith in these idealists.' One minute they call Wilson 'just a dreamer, not practical'- a year later they rail at him for making his dreams realities. They haven't clear logical ideas on one single subject except a sturdy, stolid opposition to all change. They don't think uneducated people should be highly paid, but they won't see that if they don't pay the uneducated people their children are going to be uneducated too, and we're going round and round in a circle. That- is the great middle class.

Show me a hero and I'll write you a tragedy.

I’m thirty,” I said. “I’m five years too old to lie to myself and call it honor

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

She was incurably dishonest.