There's no substitute for will. Sometimes you have to fake will when you don't feel it at all.

He had no plans, no definite intentions, except to kiss her lips again, to hold her in his arms.

She was a mischief, and that was a satisfaction; no longer was she a huntress of corralled game

From the ruins, lonely and inexplicable as the sphinx, rose the Empire State Building.

They had never been closer in their month of love, nor communicated more profoundly one with another, than when she brushed silent lips against his coat's shoulder or when he touched the end of her fingers, gently, as though she were asleep.

The idea that to make a man work you've got to hold gold in front of his eyes is a growth, not an axiom. We've done that for so long that we've forgotten there's any other way.

How different it all was from what you'd planned.