My generation of radicals and breakers-down never found anything to take the place of the old virtues of work and courage and the old graces of courtesy and politeness.

That familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer.

Tired, tired with nothing, tired with everything, tired with the world’s weight he had never chosen to bear.

Work like hell! I had 122 rejection slips before I sold a story.

So they were desperately in love and being desperately in love involves a desperate existence.

Sometimes it is harder to deprive oneself of a pain than of a pleasure and the memory so possessed him that for the moment there was nothing to do but to pretend.

I am a woman and my business is to hold things together. My business is to tear them apart.