I had a world, and it slipped away from me. The War blew up more than the bodies of men....It blew ideas away.

Her thoughts ran away to her girlhood with its passionate longing for adventure and she remembered the arms of men that had held her when adventure was a possible thing for her. Particularly she remembered one who had for a time been her lover and who in the moment of his passion had cried out to her more than a hundred times, saying the same words madly over and over: "You dear! You dear! You lovely dear!" The words, she thought, expressed something she would have liked to have achieved in life.

There is this thing called life. We live it, not as we intend or wish, but as we are driven on by forces outside and inside ourselves.

In youth there are always two forces fighting in people. The warm unthinking little animal struggles against the thing that reflects and remembers

It is all right you're saying you do not need other people, but there are a lot of people who need you.

I think that those of us who are what are called intellectuals make a terrible mistake in overvaluing the yen we have for the arts, books, etc. There is a sweet, fine quality in life that has nothing to do with this, and more and more I find myself valuing myself with those people.

As time passed and he grew to know people better, he began to think of himself as an extraordinary man, one set apart from his fellows. He wanted terribly to make his life a thing of great importance, and as he looked about at his fellow men and saw how like clods they lived it seemed to him that he could not bear to become also such a clod.