For awhile after you quit Keats all other poetry seems to be only whistling or humming.

I don't care about truth. I want some happiness.

Prose talent depends on having something to say and an interesting, highly developed way of saying it.

I began to like New York, the racy, adventurous feel of it at night, and the satisfaction that the constant flicker of men and women and machines gives to the restless eye.

What'll we do with ourselves this afternoon,' cried Daisy, 'and the day after that, and the next thirty years?' 'Don't be morbid,' Jordan said. 'Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall.' 'But it's so hot,' insisted Daisy, on the verge of tears, 'And everything's so confused. Let's all go to town!

I want to be a society vampire, you see.

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