Show me a hero and I'll write you a tragedy.

They had never been closer in their month of love, nor communicated more profoundly one with another, than when she brushed silent lips against his coat's shoulder or when he touched the end of her fingers, gently, as though she were asleep.

Life is essentially a cheat and its conditions are those of defeat; the redeeming things are not happiness and pleasure but the deeper satisfactions that come out of struggle.

Somewhere inside me there’ll always be the person I am to-night

Intermittently she caught the gist of his sentences and supplied the rest from her subconscious, as one picks up the striking of a clock in the middle with only the rhythm of the first uncounted strokes lingering in the mind.

I won’t kiss you. It might get to be a habit and I can’t get rid of habits.

She admired him; she was used to clutching her hands together in his wake and heaving audible sighs.