Think how you love me,' she whispered. 'I don't ask you to love me always like this, but I ask you to remember.' You'll always be like this to me.' Oh no; but promise me you'll remember.' Her tears were falling. 'I'll be different, but somewhere lost inside me there'll always be the person I am tonight.

He wanted to care, and he could not care. For he had gone away and he could never go back anymore. The gates were closed, the sun was down, and there was no beauty left but the gray beauty of steel that withstands all time. Even the grief he could have borne was left behind in the country of youth, of illusion, of the richness of life, where his winter dreams had flourished.

sometimes i wish i'd been an englishman; american life is so damned dumb and stupid and healthy

To be kind is more important than to be right. Many times, what people need is not a brilliant mind that speaks but a special heart that listens.

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.

Well, I can't describe her exactly-except to say that she was beautiful. She was-tremendously alive.

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.