For a moment the last sunshine fell with romantic affection upon her glowing face; her voice compelled me forward breathlessly as I listened - then the glow faded, each light deserting her with lingering regret, like children leaving a pleasant street at dusk.

Intermittently she caught the gist of his sentences and supplied the rest from her subconscious, as one picks up the striking of a clock in the middle with only the rhythm of the first uncounted strokes lingering in the mind.

but there was an immediately perceptible vitality about her as if the nerves of her body were continually smouldering.

that voice was a deathless song.

She looked at me and laughed pointlessly. Then she flounced over to the dog, kissed it with ecstasy, and swept into the kitchen, implying that a dozen chefs awaited her orders there.

The two basic stories of all times are Cinderella and Jack the Giant Killer-the charm of women and the courage of men.

I never blame failure - there are too many complicated situations in life - but I am absolutely merciless toward lack of effort.