Sometimes it is harder to deprive oneself of a pain than of a pleasure.

Never miss a party...good for the nerves--like celery.

This is what I think now: that the natural state of the sentient adult is a qualified unhappiness.

I didn't realize it, but the days came along one after another, and then two years were gone, and everything was gone, and I was gone.

I like people and I like them to like me, but I wear my heart where God put it, on the inside.

So we drove on toward death through the cooling twilight.

At any rate, let us love for a while, for a year or so, you and me. That's a form of divine drunkenness that we can all try. There are only diamonds in the whole world, diamonds and perhaps the shabby gift of disillusion.