She felt a little betrayed and sad, but presently a moving object came into sight. It was a huge horse-chestnut tree in full bloom bound for the Champs Elysees, strapped now into a long truck and simply shaking with laughter - like a lovely person in an undignified position yet confident none the less of being lovely. Looking at it with fascination, Rosemary identified herself with it, and laughed cheerfully with it, and everything all at once seemed gorgeous.

It makes me sad because I've never seen such--such beautiful shirts before.

Art isn't meaningless... It is in itself. It isn't in that it tries to make life less so.

That familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer.

Fairies: Nature's attempt to get rid of soft boys by sterilizing them.

For what it’s worth, it’s never too late to be whoever you want to be.

Then came the war, old sport. It was a great relief, and I tried very hard to die, but I seemed to bear an enchanted life.