She was a mischief, and that was a satisfaction; no longer was she a huntress of corralled game

No amount of fire or freshness can challenge what a man will store up in his ghostly heart.

An artist is someone who can hold two opposing viewpoints and still remain fully functional.

The past--the wild charge at the head of his men up San Juan Hill; the first years of his marriage when he worked late into the summer dusk down in the busy city for young Hildegarde whom he loved; the days before that when he sat smoking far into the night in the gloomy old Button house on Monroe Street with his grandfather-all these had faded like unsubstantial dreams from his mind as though they had never been. He did not remember.

Travel, which had once charmed him, seemed, at length, unendurable, a business of color without substance, a phantom chase after his own dream's shadow.

Then he kissed her. At his lips' touch she blossomed for him like a flower and the incarnation was complete.

I couldn't forgive him or like him, but I saw that what he had done was, to him, entirely justified.