Celibacy goes deeper than the flesh.
Books are like brothers. I am an only child. Gatsby [is] my imaginary eldest brother.
She saw something awful in the very simplicity she failed to understand.
There was a kindliness about intoxication - there was that indescribable gloss and glamour it gave, like the memories of ephemeral and faded evenings.
Englishmen must have an island.
They weren't happy, and neither of them had touched the chicken or the ale---and yet they weren't unhappy either. There was an unmistakable air of natural intimacy about the picture and anybody would have said that they were conspiring together.