The sun had gone down behind the tall apartments of the movie stars in the West Fifties, and the unclear voices of children, already gathered like crikets on the grass, rose through the hot twilight.

Don't be so anxious about it,' she laughed. 'I'm not used to being loved. I wouldn't know what to do; I never got the trick of it.' She looked down at him, shy and fatigued. 'So here we are. I told you years ago that I had the makings of Cinderella.' He took her hand; she drew it back instinctively and then replaced it in his. 'Beg your pardon. Not even used to being touched. But I'm not afraid of you, if you stay quiet and don't move suddenly.

He lifted his arms to the crystaline, radiant sky. "I know myself," he cried, "but that is all.

The hangover became a part of the day as well allowed-for as the Spanish siesta.

She was beautiful - but especially she was without mercy.

Life is a comedy for those who think and a tragedy for those who feel. Show me a hero and I will write you a tragedy.

If you try to create a type, you may end with nothing. If you do a good job of creating an individual, you may succeed at creating a type.