Whenever anything important happens in America, they have to gold-plate it, like baby shoes. That way you can forget it.

The King is in his Tower, eating bread and honey. The Breakers in the basement, making all the money.

Listening to it was like having a mud-slimed piece of silk drawn lightly back and forth across her face.

There's a Mr. Hyde for every happy Jekyll face, a dark face on the other side of the mirror. The brain behind that face never heard of razors, prayers, or the logic of the universe. You turn the mirror sideways and see your face reflected with a sinister left-hand twist, half mad and half sane.

Time's the thief of memory

Give a man or woman back his self-respect, and in most cases-not all, but most-you also give back that person's ability to think with at least some clarity.

The redness was going out of the light now, the remains of the day were a fading pink, the color of wild roses.