Most affectations conceal something eventually, even though they don't in the beginning.

He had seen me several times, and had intended to call on me long before, but a peculiar combination of circumstances had prevented it.

To write it, it took three months; to conceive it three minutes; to collect the data in it all my life.

You're not sorry to go, of course. With people like us our home is where we are not... No one person in the world is necessary to you or to me.

Look at that,' she whispered, and then after a moment: 'I'd like to just get one of those pink clouds and put you in it and push you around.

Beware the artist who's an intellectual also. The artist who doesn't fit.

It seemed that the only lover she had ever wanted was a lover in a dream.