I found when I was a child that if I put the hurt into words, it would go.

For the first time she had dimly realized that only the hopeless are starkly sincere and that only the unhappy can either give or take sympathy--even some of the bitter and dangerous voluptuousness of misery.

...morbidly, attracted him to strangeness, to recklessnesss, even unhappiness.

We can't all be happy, we can't all be rich, we can't all be lucky - and it would be so much less fun if we were... There must be the dark background to show up the bright colours.

I took the red dress down and put it against myself. 'Does it make me look intemperate and unchaste?' I said.

The woman had a humble, cringing manner. Of course, she had discovered that, having neither money nor virtue, she had better be humble if she knew what was good for her.

Some must cry so that others may be able to laugh the more heartily. Sacrifices are necessary.