They slipped briskly into an intimacy from which they never recovered.

...one emotion after another crept into her face like objects into a slowly developing picture.

I suppose books mean more than people to me anyway

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

"I was counting the waves", replied Amory gravely, "I'm going in for statistics".

Human sympathy has its limits, and we were contented to let all their tragic arguments fade with the city lights behind.

Only remember west of the Mississippi it's a little more look, see, act. A little less rationalize, comment, talk.