Any person with any imagination is bound to be afraid.

They were still in the happier stages of love. They were full of brave illusions about each other, tremendous illusions, so that the communion of self with self seemed to be on a plane where no other human relations mattered.

I felt a haunting loneliness sometimes, and felt it in others--young clerks in the dusk, wasting the most poignant moments of night and life.

Blessed are the dead that the rain falls on.

When he buys his ties he has to ask if gin will make them run.

Then I grew up, and the beauty of succulent illusions fell away from me.

This unlikely story begins on a sea that was a blue dream, as colorful as blue-silk stockings, and beneath a sky as blue as the irises of children's eyes.