When I die, don't come, I wouldn't want a leaf to turn away from the sun -- it loves it there. There's nothing so spiritual about being happy but you can't miss a day of it, because it doesn't last.

There should be so much more, not of orange, of words, of how terrible orange is and life.

O my enormous piano, you are not like being outdoors

I have been to lots of parties and acted perfectly disgraceful but I never actually collapsed oh Lana Turner we love you get up

I loved her fright, which was against me into the air! and the diamond white of her forelock which seemed to smart with thoughts as my heart smarted with life! and she'd toss her head with the pain and paw the air and champ the bit, as if I were Endymion and she, moon-like, hated to love me.

Now I am quietly waiting for the catastrophe of my personality to seem beautiful again, and interesting, and modern.

But it is good to be several floors up in the dead of night wondering whether you are any good or not and the only decision you can make is that you did it.