A writer like me must have an utter confidence, an utter faith in his star. It's an almost mystical feeling, a feeling of nothing-can-happen-to me, nothing-can-touch-me.... I once had it. But through a series of blows, many of them my own fault, something happened to that sense of immunity and I lost my grip.

Suddenly she realized that what she was regretting was not the lost past but the lost future, not what had not been but what would never be.

Better let it all alone in the depths of her heart and the depths of the sea.

Everything that begins, begins with blood.

You'll find another.' God! Banish the thought. Why don't you tell me that 'if the girl had been worth having she'd have waited for you'? No, sir, the girl really worth having won't wait for anybody.

why shouldn't he? All life is just a progression toward and then a recession from one phrase-- 'I love you

you once liked me, didn't you?, he asked. LIKED you- I LOVED you. Everybody loved you. You could've had anybody you wanted for the asking.