You see I usually find myself among strangers because I drift here and there trying to forget the sad things that happened to me.

Well, I can't describe her exactly-except to say that she was beautiful. She was-tremendously alive.

When a girl feels that she’s perfectly groomed and dressed she can forget that part of her. That’s charm

I am still a little afraid of missing something if I forget that, as my father snobbishly suggested, and I snobbishly repeat, a sense of the fundamental decencies is parcelled out unequally at birth.

He looked at her and for a moment she lived in the bright blue worlds of his eyes, eagerly and confidently.

To have something to say is a question of sleepless nights and worry and endless ratiocination of subject - of endless trying to dig out the essential truth, the essential justice. As a first premise you have to develop a conscience and if on top of that you have talent so much the better. But if you have talent without the conscience, you are just one of many thousands of journalists.

Never befuddle a solitary thrashing with a last annihilation.