What was the use of doing great things if I could have a better time telling her what I was going to do?

That is part of the beauty of all literature. You discover that your longings are universal longings, that you're not lonely and isolated from anyone. You belong.

He wanted to appear suddenly to her in novel and heroic colors. He wanted to stir her from that casualness she showed toward everything except herself.

There was not a moving up into vacated places; there was simply an anachronistic staying on between a vanishing past and an incalculable future.

Either you think, or else others have to think for you and take power from you, pervert and discipline your natural tastes, civilize and sterilize you.

I want to be a society vampire, you see.

Of the things they possessed in common, greatest of all was their almost uncanny pull at each others hearts.