You're a slave, a bound helpless slave to one thing in the world, your imagination.

Reserving judgements is a matter of infinite hope.

It is in the thirties that we want friends. In the forties we know they won't save us any more than love did.

You are the loveliest thing that I have ever known.

As we passed over the dark bridge her wan face fell lazily against my coat's shoulder and the formidable stroke of thirty died away with the reassuring pressure of her hand.

Baseball is a game played by idiots for morons.

all the time something within her was crying for a decision. She wanted her life shaped now, immediately — and the decision must be made by some force — of love, of money, of unquestionable practicality — that was close at hand