I'm quite illiterate, but I read a lot.

I wouldn't exactly describe her as strictly beautiful. She knocked me out, though.

I know he's dead! Don't you think I know that? I can still like him, though, can't I? Just because somebody's dead, you don't just stop liking them, for God's sake--especially if they were about a thousand times nicer than the people you know that're alive and all.

I’m not going to bed after all. Somebody around here hath murdered sleep. Good for him.

She was there, and she was the whole city, and that’s that.

And the old horror of being a professional writer, and the usual stench of words that goes with it, is begining to drive me out of my seat. (Buddy)

She's quite skinny, like me, but nice skinny. Roller-skate skinny. I watched her once from the window when she was crossing over Fifth Avenue to go to the park, and that's what she is, roller-skate skinny. You'd like her.