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

Whenever you feel like criticizing any one... just remember that all the people in this world haven't had the advantages that you've had.

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.

He found himself remembering how on one summer morning they two had started from New York in search of happiness. They had never expected to find it, perhaps, yet in itself that quest had been happier than anything he expected forevermore. Life, it seemed, must be a setting up of props around one - otherwise it was disaster. There was no rest, no quiet. He had been futile in longing to drift and dream, no one drifted except to maelstroms, no one dreamed, without his dreams becoming fantastic nightmares of indecision and regret.

Let's borrow life preservers and jump over. I think we should do something spectacular. I feel that all our lives have been too restrained.

What people are ashamed of usually makes a good story.

I suppose books mean more than people to me anyway