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.

Speech is an arrangement of notes that will never be played again.

A lot of young girls together is a romantic secret thing like the first sight of wild ducks at dawn.

It is sadder to find the past again and find it inadequate to the present than it is to have it elude you and remain forever a harmonious conception of memory.

I wasn't actually in love, but I felt a sort of tender curiosity.

Was it the infinite sadness of her eyes that drew him or the mirror of himself that he found in the gorgeous clarity of her mind?

I'm merely trying to give you the sort of argument that would appeal to your intelligence.