Everybody in American seems in a rush to catch a train.

You have killed my love. You used to stir my imagination. Now you don't even stir my curiosity. You simply produce no effect. I loved you because you were marvelous, because you had genius and intellect, because you realized the dreams of great poets and gave shape and substance to the shadows of art. You have thrown it all away. You are shallow and stupid

Always! That is the dreadful word ... it is a meaningless word, too.

They are always asking a writer why he does not write like somebody else, or a painter why he does not paint like somebody else, quite oblivious of the fact that if either of them did anything of the kind he would cease to be an artist.

Dammit Sir, it's your duty to get married. You can't always be living for pleasure!

You told me you had destroyed it." "I was wrong. It has destroyed me.

Life cheats us with shadows. We ask it for pleasure. It gives it to us with bitterness and disappointment in its train.