For the moment I can only cry out that I have lost my splendid mirage. Come back, come back, O glittering and white!

He talked a lot about the past and I gathered that he wanted to recover something, some idea of himself perhaps, that had gone into loving Daisy.

he could transform the barest incident into a thing of curve and contour.

In the morning you were never violently sorry-- you made no resolutions, but if you had overdone it and your heart was slightly out of order, you went on the wagon for a few days without saying anything about it, and waited until an accumulation of nervous boredom projected you into another party.

She wanted to crawl into his pocket and be safe forever.

A new world, material without being real, where poor ghosts, breathing dreams like air, drifted fortuitously about.

You've got an awfully kissable mouth.