It is invariably saddening to look through new eyes at things upon which you have expended your own powers of adjustment.

one of those men who reach such an acute limited excellence at twenty−one that everything afterward savors of anti−climax.

When I see a beautiful shell like that I can't help feeling a regret about what's inside it.

There are only the pursued, the pursuing, the busy and the tired.

I am still a little afraid of missing something if I forget that, as my father snobbishly suggested, and I snobbishly repeat, a sense of the fundamental decencies is parcelled out unequally at birth.

Dishonesty in a woman is a thing you never blame deeply.

Her face was sad and lovely with bright things in it, bright eyes and a bright passionate mouth, but there was an excitement in her voice that men who had cared for her found difficult to forget: a singing compulsion, a whispered “Listen,” a promise that she had done gay, exciting things just a while since and that there were gay, exciting things hovering in the next hour.