Our language, once homely and colloquial, seeks to aggrandize our meanest activities with polysyllabic terms or it retreats from frankness into a stammering verbosity.

The erotic element always present in fashion, the kiss of loving labor on the body, is now overtly expressed by language. Belts hug or clasp; necklines plunge; jerseys bind. The word exciting tingles everywhere.

For both writer and reader, the novel is a lonely, physically inactive affair. Only the imagination races.

From what I have seen, I am driven to the conclusion that religion is only good for good people.

You mustn't force sex to do the work of love or love to do the work of sex.

I really tried, or so I thought, to avoid lying, but it seemed to me that they forced it on me by the difference in their vision of things, so that I was always transposing reality for them into something they could understand.

Life for the European is a career; for the American it is a hazard.