then, as though it had been waiting on a near by roof for their arrival, the moon came slanting suddenly through the vines and turned the girl's face the color of white roses.

Beauty is only to be admired, only to be loved - to be harvested carefully and then flung at a chosen lover like a gift of roses. It seems to me, so far as I can judge clearly at all, that my beauty would be used like that.

They were smiling at each other as if this was the beginning of the world.

All that kept her from breaking was that it was not an image of strength that was leaving her; she would be just as strong without him.

It is youth’s felicity as well as its insufficiency that it can never live in the present, but must always be measuring up the day against its own radiantly imagined future

What'll we do with ourselves this afternoon? And the day after that, and the next thirty years?

No matter how low you go, there's always an unexplored basement.