The transition from libertine to prig was so complete.
The exhilarating ripple of her voice was a wild tonic in the rain.
She was dazzling-- alight; it was agony to comprehend her beauty in a glance.
It is sadder to find the past again and find it inadequate to the present than it is to have it elude you and remain forever a harmonious conception of memory.
I am a woman and my business is to hold things together. My business is to tear them apart.
All she wanted was to be a little girl, to be efficiently taken care of by some yielding yet superior power, stupider and steadier than herself. It seemed that the only lover she had ever wanted was a lover in a dream