I often want to cry. That is the only advantage women have over men — at least they can cry.

I have tried," I said, "but he does not believe me. It is too late for that now" (it is always too late for truth, I thought).

It's funny, he said, have you ever thought that a girl's clothes cost more than the girl inside them?

She haunted him, as an ungenerous action haunts one.

Yes, I am sad, sad as a circus-lioness, sad as an eagle without wings, sad as a violin with only one string and that one broken, sad as a woman who is growing old. Sad, sad, sad.

After all this, what happened? What happened was that, as soon as I had the slightest chance of a place to hide in, I crept into it and hid. Well, sometimes it's a fine day isn't it? Sometimes the skies are blue. Sometimes the air is light, easy to breathe. And there is always tomorrow.

Of course she had some pathetic illusions about herself or she would not be able to go on living.