Isn't Hollywood a dump-in the human sense of the word. A hideous town, pointed up by the insulting gardens of its rich, full of the human spirit at a new low of debasement.

So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.

She was feeling the pressure of the world outside and she wanted to see him and feel his presence beside her and be reassured that she was doing the right thing after all.

Every one suspects himself of at least one of the cardinal virtues.

She smiled, a moving childish smile that was like all the lost youth in the world.

A writer wastes nothing.

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