I want to be a society vampire, you see.

Women are necessarily capable of almost anything in their struggle for survival and can scarcely be convicted of such man-made crimes as “cruelty.

I'll drink your champagne. I'll drink every drop of it, I don't care if it kills me.

Men get to be a mixture of the charming mannerisms of the women they have known.

They weren't happy, and neither of them had touched the chicken or the ale---and yet they weren't unhappy either. There was an unmistakable air of natural intimacy about the picture and anybody would have said that they were conspiring together.

This is the beauty I want. Beauty has got to be astonishing, astounding-- it's got to burst in on you like a dream, like the exquisite eyes of a girl.

For awhile after you quit Keats all other poetry seems to be only whistling or humming.