All I think of ever is that I love you.

She admired him; she was used to clutching her hands together in his wake and heaving audible sighs.

Scratch a Yale man with both hands and you'll be lucky to find a coast-guard. Usually you find nothing at all.

"What are you going to do?" "Can't say - run for president, write -" "Greenwich Village?" "Good heavens, no - I said write - not drink."

It takes two to make an accident.

Your life on earth will be, as always, the interval between two significant glances in a mundane mirror.

And lastly from that period I remember riding in a taxi one afternoon between very tall buildings under a mauve and rosy sky; I began to bawl because I had everything I wanted and knew I would never be so happy again.