Though the Jazz Age continued it became less and less an affair of youth. The sequel was like a children's party taken over by the elders.

We want to believe. Young students try to believe in older authors, constituents try to believe in their Congressmen, countries try to believe in their statesmen, but they can't. Too many voices, too much scattered, illogical ill-considered criticism.

New York had all the iridescence of the beginning of the world.

So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.

What was it up there in the song that seemed to be calling her back inside? What would happen now in the dim, incalculable hours?

Everybody's youth is a dream, a form of chemical madness.

If you try to create a type, you may end with nothing. If you do a good job of creating an individual, you may succeed at creating a type.